


Heathens

by AngelicSociopath



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood and Torture, Bottom Dean, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, Explicit Murder, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, Fluff, Horror, Lingerie, M/M, Murder, PTSD, Pole dancer Castiel, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Progressive horror, Psychological Torture, Rehabilitation, Schizophrenia, Stripper Castiel, Top Castiel, Violence, gang members - Freeform, sociopath Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicSociopath/pseuds/AngelicSociopath
Summary: Dean is an agent. Cas is his mission.It all started with a simple meeting, a simple, hot night in the back of Dean's car. Four years later they meet again, separated by prison bars, until one decision causes one hell of a ride that turns their lives around completely. Lives will be lost. Promises are all that can be enforced.The only question about it is: who can you trust?





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

The first time he'd met Prisoner 67, it had been...interesting.

 

With the dark room, the loud music, and cigarette smoke clouding the brains of every person taking up the space of the room, anyone could have missed him. For Dean Winchester, however, it was almost as if he couldn't see anything else.

He didn't always go by 67, but then again, Dean never did catch a name. All that he got was one hell of a night. He didn't expect to meet 67 the tiresome evening he walked through the door of the club. All he planned to do was get a couple of drinks in, maybe hit up a one night stand when he was drunk enough. But hell, his brain (upstairs and downstairs) still goes blank when he thinks of those tight shorts 67 had worn while entangling those legs around the pole up on stage. They were black, supposedly leather, with a heavy studded belt that Dean blames for giving him some sort of kink.

He and 67 locked eyes for only a moment that night, but Dean knew he was screwed. The pole dancer had kept his eyes on the agent all night, biting down on his painted lip and Dean could have sworn he saw him grind against the pole. That's when he'd simply had enough. His hand was reaching down into his pocket and pulling out his wallet without his own permission, flirting with his eyes and pulling a twenty out, flicking it towards 67's heels. Through heavily framed black eyeliner, 67 had winked down at him, licking his lips and causing his red stain to smudge. Moments later, his heeled boots were stepping off the stage and to the seat Dean had sat in.

He remembered how 67's voice felt against his ear. Low, deep, like smooth gravel when he spoke those hushed words. "You look amazing..." Dean breathed a laugh. There were no words he could muster with the man now in his lap, practically taking every thought and tossing it out of his brain. 67 bit his lip as he rested his forehead against Dean's, releasing a sigh. "I like you, agent," he growled. Dean stopped, his eyes widened. There was nothing on him that could possibly prove his status as an agent- he'd made sure he'd taken everything off back at the station. Seeing his confusion, 67 chuckled. "You've tried very well to cover yourself. I'd almost congratulate you." 67's hips slowly bucked in Dean's lap, tilting his head back as he did so.  
"Who are you?" Dean had asked quietly. 67 looked back down at him, his deep, dark blue eyes piercing into his own jade green. He smiled.  
"Just a man out for some fun," he said simply. Dean hadn't had time to argue as 67 gave another roll of his hips, his barely covered ass grinding against Dean's hardness tightening in his jeans. 67 groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head once again fall backwards. Dean guessed there was more than just cigarette smoke in the air, since now his head was clouded enough to the point he couldn't even think straight. "Why don't we take this elsewhere?" 67 growled in his ear.  
"Oh, god, yes," Dean moaned.

 

~~~ four years later~~~

 

The second time he'd met Prisoner 67, it had been on order. That was when he learned the prisoner's name, or number, as it seemed. Cell 67. But when he reached the cell in the prison he'd been sent to, he was surprised to find it empty. He nervously checked the note in his pocket once more, pulling the folded letter from his uniform with a cautious hand.

Dean,  
Ask for prisoner number 67 in the main office. Rumor has it, you've been specially selected for "rehabilitation" of said prisoner. No other word has been released.  
\- Robert Singer

Dean almost scoffed at the pretentious wording of the note, knowing that Agent Singer (or more personally known as Bobby) would never speak in such a tongue unless it was under rule. Dean pocketed the note and his set his direction towards the main office after passing over it. Bobby would have chewed his ass for not following orders if he were here. Dean hid his smug expression to himself anyhow.

Reaching the glass doors of the main office, Dean made his way inside after holding the door open for a smaller woman carrying a stack of papers in her arms. Closing the door gently behind him, Dean made his way to the desk in the center of the office, hand in his interior suit pocket, reaching for his badge. A shorter woman sat at her desk, filing through the handful of papers lying on the surface. She blew away a strand of short brown hair straying in her face as she turned to look at him. "Jody Mills," she said, holding her hand out over the desk, "how may I help you?" She asked. After shaking her hand politely, Dean pulled out his badge.  
"Agent Winchester, I was sent here for the rehabilitation task." Jody nodded.  
"Yeah, we're expecting quite a few of you agents here today. Which prisoner was assigned to you?" Dean was only slightly thrown off at the fact that there was an entire system of prisoners being rehabilitated. He continued on anyway.  
"Prisoner number 67." Once the number spilled off his lips, the sheriff froze. Her eyes stayed locked on his for a few moments, as if she were unable to process the words that had come out of his mouth.  
"Come again?" She asked, her voice shaky, a pitch or so higher this time.  
"67. If it's too much trouble I can-" Jody cut him off with a raise of her hand.  
"No, no, I hear you. Just...give me a moment, agent." Turning around, she grabbed the communicator on her belt and held it to her face. "Officer Fitzgerald, I'm going to need you in the main office. I have an Agent Winchester coming to see Prisoner 67." For a moment, all that came from the communicator was static filling the silence. Then finally, a beeping sound came from the other end.  
"I'm sorry, ma'am, did you say 'Prisoner 67?"  
"That's right, Fitzgerald. Agent Winchester is here for the rehabilitation task." Once again, the line went static, if not for a moment longer.  
"Alright, I'll be right down there ma'am." The communicator went silent, and Jody placed it back into her belt. She turned to the filing cabinet behind her desk, crouching down and hesitantly removing a key from the ring on her belt that she used to open a drawer lower to the floor. Dean, perplexed, watched her as she pulled out a file and handed it to him afterwards, her hand trembling slightly as she held it out. "There you are, agent." She said, casting her eyes away from him. Dean took the file from her, attempting to remain casual but still his confusion seeped through his expression.  
Not a moment later, a shy looking man he assumed to be Officer Fitzgerald came through the door, a nervous smile on his face as he looked to Dean. "Agent Winchester?" He asked. Dean returned a smile.  
"That's me. Officer Fitzgerald, I'm guessing?"  
"Call me Garth." Garth held out a hand. Dean returned the gesture.  
"The name's Dean." Garth suddenly looked up at him, his eyes wide and expression dropped to fearful. He let go of Dean's hand and without another word, he walked to the door. Dean turned back to Jody after his response.  
"Thank you, Officer Mills, I'll be seeing you again shortly." Jody nodded, a smile being forced upon her face. Dean turned after shaking her hand once more, and headed out through the door.  
He almost prayed that it was his imagination that warped her voice to say "I hope you will."

 

Through the still silence of walking down the series of halls, Dean decided to skim through the files. The first was filled with little to no personal information, but still managed to fill half the page.

NAME: Castiel  
AGE: 26  
BIRTH DATE: 9/18/1990  
STATE OF BIRTH:  
CITY:  
FAMILY:

Dean had stopped. Reading through the rest of his personal information, he realized it was all blank. Even the mug shot was barely identifiable. Beyond confused, he spoke up to Garth. "Do you guys even have a last name?" Garth looked up to him, perplexed at first until his eyes landed on the files.  
"Oh, no. We, uh...we couldn't find it. Anything, for that matter. It's as if he has no record at all."  
"How's that?" Dean asked. Garth shrugged his shoulders.  
"All the information we have is what he gave us."

Looking up, Dean searched for the cell numbers. 64, 65, 66... "Why is cell 67 empty?" Dean asked. Garth huffed a laugh.  
"A guy like him? There's no way we'd put him in an ordinary cell like this one." Dean slowed his pace as he continued down the hallway. This entire situation had seem off since the beginning, but the further he came to Prisoner 67, or Castiel, he'd recently discovered, he found more and more reasons to turn back and act as if none of this had ever happened.

He turned back to the files, continuing onwards in search of crime records. Instead, all he found were a series of newspaper clippings and photographs. Dean raised an eyebrow at the very first headline he came across.

WOMAN FOUND DEAD, BODY ALMOST UNIDENTIFIABLE

Then the next.

TEENS FOUND IN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE, BACKS SLASHED OPEN

And the next.

MAN ATTACKED IN HOME BY UNKNOWN FORCE, BODY NOT FOUND

So his prisoner was a murderer. A violent one, in fact. His nerves grew on edge with each step he took. Continuing on, he found the photographs even worse, if possible. The first showed what was once a young woman, her body slumped against a brick wall with blood covering the walls and her clothes. Looking closer, he noticed the blood was almost painted in the shape of two large wings shadowing from behind her back.

Dean tried not to shiver or vomit at the next photograph. What would have been the woman from the first news article was shown standing up, her body supported by ropes hanging her wrists up in the air, her face removed completely by slashes across the skin and leaving nothing left but a gory, bloody scene. Blood had been seeping from her wrists where the tight ropes held her upwards, the red liquid having stained rope as well. The smaller details in the photo showed that the body had not been found for maybe a week after her murder, given by the tiny dots of roaches crawling and burrowing in her skin. Dean quickly closed the files with a snap after his deduction, his stomach twisting and hardly able to read another article or see another photo.

As though the situation couldn't have gotten any worse, Garth had tapped his shoulder to alert him that they had arrived. Looking forward, they had stopped on front of what looked like a large vault door. When Dean glanced behind his shoulder, the maze of hallways seemed miles away. A chill ran down his spine as Garth set his hand to the locks. He almost found himself telling the man to stop, to just turn back and forget the objective completely. Even so, he bit down on his tongue as a series of clicks and sounds rang through the locks in the door. With a final click, the handle of the door popped loose. Garth hesitantly raised his hand to the handle, taking much of his effort to pull the heavy door aside.

Dean wasn't sure what he expected the cell to look like, to be honest. The room was dark, and when Garth trailed his hand along the wall in search of a power switch, a dim, flickering light came on overhead. Garth gave a nervous breath of a laugh. "Sorry, they, uh..." he glanced away from the room, "they do that. A lot."  
"Any reason why?" Dean asked quietly, as though he were at the entrance of a cave holding some beast ready to awake and attack. He was almost sure that he was, at this point. Garth only shrugged and continued on into the partially lit room.

The room really wasn't all that large, giving only a few feet space from the wall to a mammoth cubicle cage sitting in the center of the room. Dean stopped, frozen in place when his eyes landed on the figure sitting on the floor of the cage. His hands were held behind his back by cuffs, his head hanging low and face covered by black, possibly dark brown hair. What caught his attention the most was the deep stains of blood covering his clothing.

Dean stepped forward cautiously as Garth motioned him with his hand. Leaning upwards, he whispered in his ear, "you were asked to speak to him, and he won't until I leave. I'll stay in the security room and watch." Without another word, he stepped back and into the smaller room illuminated by computer screens. Dean's curiosity about the room made him look up towards the corners of the room, finding a security camera attached to each on the wall. Suspicion ran through him even more, if possible.

With the silence suddenly ringing through the room, it finally dawned upon him that he could hear the prisoner's breathing. The eerie stillness seemed to shatter as 67- Castiel- slowly raised his head to look at him. Dean took a small step back, observing him. Dark hair, shaven stubble which made him realize that this prisoner was, for some particular reason, being cared for, and intense, deep blue eyes that caused Dean to still. The man remained motionless except for his eyes, which gradually started at Dean's feet then up to his eyes. A barely noticeable smile formed on his face, but Dean caught it just before it vanished. "Dean," Castiel spoke, his voice low, rough, like gravel off his tongue. Dean immediately recognized it, sending shivers through his skin. "I've been waiting." After the shock had passed, Dean took a few step closer to the cage. First things first: get answers.  
"What's your name?" He asked, his voice quieter than he had hoped.  
"Castiel," he answered simply.  
"Last name." Dean read off the missing answers to the questions by memory.  
"Novak." He answered.  
"State of birth?"  
"Washington."  
"City?"  
"Seattle." He answered the questions without a single expression on his face.  
"Any family?"  
"A deadbeat father, three brothers, two sisters." Dean paused before giving the next question.  
"Reason for imprisonment?" Castiel stared, eyes unblinking. Then his head tilted. Finally, a form of movement.  
"Figure it out." He said slyly, smiling as he did so. Dean looked back away. The answer was obvious, but there was too many things to pinpoint. He only nodded to give a response. Castiel slumped backwards, remaining silent.  
"Why 67?" Dean continued. Castiel shrugged.  
"I liked your car. Especially what we did in there," he said, giving a wink. Dean looked away from it almost immediately.  
"How..." Dean trailed off, "how did you know I was an agent, all those years ago?" The man tilted his head again, a fond, unsettling look on his face.  
"Aww, are we taking a trip down memory lane?" Dean clenched his jaw, becoming annoyed at his tone.  
"Answer me," he snapped. Castiel looked behind where Dean was standing, almost suspiciously. Then he looked back to him.  
"It was obvious," he said. Just as Dean began to rub his temples in frustration, he continued. "The way you walked into the room," confused, Dean looked back to him, "your gait was off, exhausted. You scanned the room, purely on reaction, I'm supposing. When you entered the room, you adjusted your jacket, but only one side, which was your first mistake. Your thumb slipped into what must have been an interior pocket, where an agent would hide their information. Subtle, but not subtle enough. You might as well have just told me up front."

Dean stopped, stunned, staring at the man who sat still in the cage. He only stared back, completely nonchalant. If anything, his suspicions were confirmed, if not more. Another step back from the cage. "What are you?" He asked quietly.  
"What does it look like?" Castiel responded.  
"Dammit- look, Cas I want to-" Castiel cut him off, his voice breaking in a laugh.  
"Aww, so we're already starting with names? It's almost as though we've already bonded." His voice was thick with mock fondness. Dean's irritation grew on edge. Turning away, he grabbed handfuls of his hair and stared at the wall. _You can do this, Dean, just gotta reason with the guy._

"No, I'm not going to kill him." Dean slowly turned back around. Castiel still sat on the floor, hands pinned behind his back, but he finally bore an expression. He was looking down, his brows furrowed and his eyes seemed focused on the floor between his crossed legs. Dean watched him for a moment before Castiel began speaking quietly again. "No. No, I won't." He said, almost as though he were arguing.  
"...Cas?" Dean dared to call for him. Castiel's head raised to meet his eyes, his face contorted in confusion, it seemed. Then he shook his head, huffing a laugh.  
"Sorry," he said, to him this time. Dean's eyes widened when Cas raised a cuffed hand and tapped the side of his head, the broken chain rattling from his wrist. "They won't stop talking." Dean tried not to show judgment, nodding instead.

For the first time, Dean knelt down to Castiel to meet his eye level. "Cas?" He called quietly. Cas looked into his eyes, almost longingly. Dean tried to shove it aside. "I want to help you. But you're gonna have to cooperate." The way that Castiel looked back at him, he almost felt as though he were tending to a wounded animal.  
"Why did you come here?" Castiel's eyes shone in innocence, but his voice growled dangerously.  
"I'm here to help. I want to take you with me," Dean replied calmly. He curled his finger around one of the bars. Castiel reached out for it, intertwining their fingers together as Dean stuck the rest of his hand in. "Are you going to trust me?" Castiel stared back, his deep blue eyes lost in his. Finally, he nodded.

Behind them, Dean jumped at the sound of a door practically slamming against the wall. He turned his head around, finding Garth watching him with wide eyes. "Agent Winchester, what do you think you're doing?" He asked, his voice filled with panic. Before he could respond, there was a hand gripping his tie and pulling his face against the bars. Castiel's eyes were piercing into his dangerously.  
"We've only got this one chance, Dean," he growled.  
"But-"  
"Nearly a thousand prisoners locked up for even worse than I," he made sure Dean looked him in the eye before continuing, "what's one less?" Dean couldn't find the words to answer; there was too much happening at once to even think straight.

"Officer Mills, I'm gonna need back up in cell 67!" Garth shouted into the communicator. With his brain stunned and working on instinct, Dean spun on his heels and landed his fist on the side of the officer's head, knocking him out cold. Before he could register what he was doing, he ripped the keychain off of Garth's belt and went for the lock, finding Castiel still sitting patiently in the cage. At the moment, he couldn't find a single reason to justify what he was doing, but at the same time, nothing was telling him to stop. The key snapped in half in the lock just after he opened it, and his hand reached out for Cas to take.

Dean led the way out of the cell and into the hallway, where police guards were already swarming towards them. His brain seemed to power off as his training kicked in, swinging punches against the guards and going to the next, taking them down one by one. Behind him, Cas had more undignified methods of defending themselves. Every time a guard had passed Dean, Cas would take them out with blood on his hands and a guard breaking against his knees. Just a single punch would break skin or leave a nosebleed for the unconscious men. And yet it wasn't enough; it was as if the station had sent everything they had, and a few behind them were getting back up.

He then felt a hand near the back of his pants. Dean turned around, ready for defense, to find that Cas had slipped his gun out of his pocket. A moment of fear struck him- Cas was looking straight at him, raising the gun, finger twitching on the trigger, only for the bullet to barely graze his ear and strike the guard behind him. Castiel shuffled on his feet, eyes focused but blank as every gunshot landed a man on the floor. He twisted around and shot one guard, two, then spinning back around on his heels to hit another, each bullet landing in a person's skull and painting the floor and walls in red. Dean watched, stunned, pressed against the wall as Castiel continued, not even fazed a bit.

Within only a few minutes, the floors were covered in lifeless guards, the blood seeping from head wounds and coloring the tiles. Dean stared wide eyed as Castiel walked forward and on his way as if nothing had happened. The man stopped in his tracks and looked back at Dean, who was still frozen against the wall. "You're afraid," he said. Slowly, he walked back to Dean, looking up at him. "You don't need to be. I'm not going to hurt you Dean."

He didn't known what he was doing. Hell, he'd just broken out what could be one of the country's- the world's- worst criminals, and now he was about to trust him. He should turn back, right here, right now. Cas had his gun in hand, all he had to do was knock it out of his grip, grab it, and pull the trigger. What was stopping him?  
"Tell me exactly the reason you were imprisoned," was all he could say. He'd give him a chance. Just this one.  
"I'll tell you once we're in the car."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then:  
> Dean is selected for a special rehabilitation program in a local police station/ mental hospital to visit a patient. Said patient just happens to be one of the most dangerous sociopaths that the country has ever held, and one that Dean has a brief history with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this chapter early as a surprise. Enjoy!

Dean made sure Cas was buckled in tightly in the passenger seat before he settled into the Impala. If he was going to take him with him, at least the guy couldn't jump out onto moving traffic seeing no other way out of it. The seat belt fastened with a small click, and he inserted the keys into the ignition, smiling as the old girl's engine roared to life. Looking over, Cas seemed to enjoy her as well; he had a hand tracing just under the side window, a small smile on his face. "She's beautiful," he said.  
"Isn't she?" Dean replied. He didn't have to look as his hands went for the radio, fiddling with the controls until the aging cassette player turned on and his old classic rock tape began playing AC/DC through the speakers. Castiel's smile only widened. Dean beamed back and pressed his foot to the gas pedal, steering the Impala out of the police station's car park and onto the road.

 

Nearly ten minutes into their trip home, Dean finally turned down the radio enough so that he could speak. "Well, Cas? We're gonna have to talk about this sooner or later." He took his eyes off the road long enough to glance over at Cas, who stayed silent the entire time. Castiel began searching around the car without leaving his seat.  
"Do you still have those files?" Dean tipped his head back.  
"Behind my seat, on the floor." Castiel reached back and searched blindly for the files before sitting back upright with the folder in his hand. Within seconds, he had an article pulled out and began reading aloud.  
"'MAN ATTACKED IN HOME BY UNKNOWN FORCE, BODY NOT FOUND,' oh, that's a good one," Castiel said, rolling his eyes. "Said man is named Alistair, and he's still alive. I should have finished the job while I had the chance." Before Dean could interrupt, he continued. "He abused and cheated on his wife, raped his fourteen year old daughter, and was a drug abuser and dealer. However, he escaped when he realized he was being targeted. I was young, but I should have known better." Dean glanced over at him again.  
"It doesn't say any of that in the article," he stated. Castiel nodded.  
"Next article: 'TEENS FOUND IN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE, BACKS SLASHED OPEN.' They were engaged in targeted harassment towards a teenager named Krissy Chambers on the internet. She was fifteen when she committed suicide, but her oppressors didn't know that. I managed to hack into her social media the day word of her death had reached me, and lured them into the warehouse. They got what they deserved in the end." He put the files back in the folder and looked to Dean. "Do you see what I'm getting at?" Dean believed he was beginning to understand, and he nodded slowly.  
"So, you target other criminals?"  
"Those who came unpunished. If this society is so weak as to not do anything about the real harm committed, then someone has to."  
"What about the woman?" Dean asked.  
"She was threatening her husband." Dean looked back over at him.  
"That's all?"  
"She didn't stop at the threats." Understanding, he nodded.

"How did you know to target these people?"  
"It was a small community that I used to live in. I even knew some of them." A look of disgust spread on his face.  
"Anyone close to you?" He waited for an answer, but it didn't come. Checking over again, Castiel's focus was on the scenery of buildings rushing by the window outside. Dean dropped the question. All that could be heard was the engine of the Impala and AC/DC's Back in Black coming from the stereo.

 

Dean pulled the Impala into the tiny spot in front of an apartment building, parking charges be damned. There was no way he was putting his Baby in some parking garage just because it costs less. He shut the door behind him once he stepped out, heading over to Castiel's side and letting him out. "I live on the first floor so hopefully there won't be any questions," he said hurriedly. Castiel tilted his head, confused.  
"Why would there be questions?" Dean glanced down at his clothing, and Cas followed his eyes to the horror stained prison clothes hanging loosely on his shoulders. Castiel nodded in understanding. Dean slipped an arm around his waist to hurry him into the building where, luckily, no one cared to watch them. Grabbing the keys out of his pocket, Dean unlocked the door and led Castiel first inside the room.

 

He first headed towards his bedroom, searching through his drawers for something that Castiel could change into. "Hey, Cas, come on in here," he called. He still continued his search even as the sound of footsteps following him into the room echoed on the floor. "Alright, I have some stuff sorted that you might-" he turned around with the set of clothes in his arms only for his brain to go blank at what was behind him. Castiel stood with his thumb looping in the waist of his white baggy pants, his oversized shirt discarded elsewhere. His bare skin was pale from lack of sunlight, pure and unmarked.  
"Yes, Dean?" Castiel asked, looking up at him. Dean's mouth went dry, unable too look away. The last time he'd seen him, his toned skin would shine off the spotlights on the poles, muscular tan flashing off before his eyes. He hadn't noticed how much he had changed.  
"I, uh..." he cleared his throat, "I found some clothes and stuff for you, just um...go through this and come back out when you're done." Castiel nodded, moving closer. Dean froze, unknowing what Cas would do. His unwanted fantasies vanished within that moment, however, when Castiel ignored him and went straight for the pile of folded clothing now lying on the bed. Dean took it as a reminder to leave the room, turning his head and rushing to the door to hide the blush burning his face.

 

Dishes were being tended to in the sink when the familiar footsteps returned. Dean turned off the running water once Castiel walked into the room. He spread put his arms casually to express the new- for him- clothing, and Dean's mouth went dry despite the beer he'd just taken a drink from. His black, faded Metallica t-shirt clung tight on Cas' frame, giving away the curves of his shoulders and the intricate muscles of his back. His eyes travelling lower, his black jeans hung nicely off of his hips, fitting perfectly over the curve of his ass that Dean had no shame in admiring. "Nice," Dean said under his breath, giving a wink before turning back to the dirty plates in the sink. "Hey, don't you need to shower, or something?"  
"I did so some time before you came," Cas answered. Dean tried his best not to twist his words, but he broke out in a laugh anyway, tipping his head back.  
"That long, eh?" He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Cas' face contort in confusion as he tilted his head. Seconds later, his expression lightened and a noticeable blush spread on his cheeks. He did nothing to hide it, seeing it pointless. Dean only laughed harder.

 

"Come on, sit down," Dean offered, directing at the kitchen table. Castiel looked at him for a moment, blinked, then slowly pulled the chair out to sit. It wasn't the first thing to throw Dean off guard. Even so, he reached for the dry towel he had lying on the counter, using it to finish drying the last dish in the sink. He set it aside with the rest to put in the cupboard later. Castiel was still sitting at the table when he Dean sat across from him, setting the newspapers aside to clear off the surface of the furniture. The man didn't give him eye contact, just started intently at the natural designs of the wood table. "You want me to get you anything?" Dean asked, breaking the silence. Cas' head shot up, eyes wide as though alarmed. He only shook his head.  
"No, I'm fine," he said.  
"They must treat you really well at the prison then, don't they?" Castiel shut his eyes, shaking his head. From underneath the table, Dean could hear frantic taps against the tiles. He raised an eyebrow, but Cas dismissed it.  
"No, not that well." Dean noticed that Cas had his jaw clenched tightly.  
"Hey, are you alright?" He set his hand on the table, reaching out to him. Cas obviously didn't notice, he just sat there, blinking forcefully at his lap as though he were trying to focus on something. "Cas!" He called. Still, he didn't respond. The tapping only got louder. Dean finally got from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process, and rushed over to where he was sitting, kneeling on the floor. "Cas, Cas! Hey! Listen to me!" Whatever trance he had been in, Castiel had apparently broken from it when Dean placed his hand firmly on his shoulder. He watched Dean with wide eyes, breathing heavily and still shaking.  
"What's wrong?" He asked. Unknowing what to do, Dean traced his hand down Cas' arm, trying to give comfort even through his own worry.

  
"Hang on, I'll get you something," Dean said, stepping away slowly, not wanting to leave him. He turned to the cupboard over the sink, taking down one of the glasses that weren't chipped and turning on the tap below. Once the glass cup was almost filled to the rim, he shut off the tap and turned back to Cas, who wasn't at his seat. Dean jumped, nearly spilling the water, when he found Cas inches away from him. "Jesus!-" Cas tilted his head.  
"No," he said, squinting at him, "I'm Castiel." Dean huffed a laugh.  
"Yeah, good one Cas." He handed the glass over to him.  
"Good what?" Dean shook his head when Cas wasn't looking. He just couldn't figure out what was going on. Was he trying to mess with him? Because congradu-fucking-lations, it was working.

 

Before either of them were to sit back down at the table, perhaps discuss whatever the hell was happening, the doorknob to the apartment began to rattle. As Dean watched the door and waited for whoever it was to enter the room, there was the sound of rummaging after the drawer was thrown open. Turning around, Cas turned on his heels in a split second, his eyes worried and panicked, with a sharpened knife in his hand and directing at the door. "Cas, wait a second!" Dean grabbed his wrist tightly, but Cas didn't let go. It was only until Dean had completely obstructed his view of the door that his grip went slack, and Dean gently took the knife from his hand.

 

The door finally opened seconds later, and the absurdly tall figure of his shaggy haired brother entered the room. Sam kicked off his shoes to the side before dropping the large load of his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door afterwards. He didn't notice Cas at first, but when he did, he froze by the entrance of the kitchen. "Dean?" He asked. Castiel took a step back behind Dean, almost cowering.  
"Dont worry, Sammy, he's just a friend," Dean said. Sam gave a small laugh.  
"You made a friend? How much did you pay him?" Castiel tilted his head from behind Dean's shoulder.  
"Shut up, bitch," Dean said it with a smile, disregarding the comment.  
"Jerk," Sam said in response. Dean turned around, and possibly for the first time, Cas was genuinely smiling. Sure it was small, but it was all in the eyes, and Dean couldn't help but smile in return.

 

A few moments later, another figure opened the door, but Dean could tell exactly who it was just by the flash the blonde hair in the doorway. "Jess!" Sam called. Jess entered the room smiling when she saw Sam, who came towering over her and nearly had to bend down just to give her a hug. Dean grinned, then turned to the table where he'd meant to sit at before. Sitting down, he motioned for Cas to come as well.  
"Hey Dean," Jess greeted. Her eyes flickered over to Cas. "Who's this?"  
"A friend I brought home," Dean covered. "This is Cas. He's from my old school."  
"You mean the one you nearly dropped out of?" Sam asked playfully. Dean stuck out his tongue in a childish manner. Sam did the same. Glancing over his shoulder, Cas remained expressionless nearly the entire time.

 

~~~

 

The DVD player made an awful whine when Dean placed the disk inside, the machine reluctantly accepting it. (Deduction: apparently it was quite old, for a mechanical device, and had been put through some wear.) However, the screen still came up, playing nonsense previews of other movies that would be considered outdated by this time.

 

Dean practically flopped back down on the couch, Jess and Sam giving looks of displeasure as he disrupted them. Content childish-ness. The film began playing on the screen, but Castiel wasn't watching. He was too caught up in even the simplest gestures and expressions coming from the three around him. Sam and Jess groaned-(obviously they had seen the film too many times before, or were just not interested.) Dean, however was beaming as he took a handful from the popcorn bowl and practically shoved it in his mouth. (Enjoys food, is domestically ill mannered.) Looking at the screen of their worn down television, the logo for Star Trek appeared. (Enjoys science fiction, Sam and Jess otherwise. Both deductions about their displeasure prove to be correct.) It wasn't even one of the originals, but one of the recent films, but Dean was practically giddy in his seat, continuously grinning with that spark in his eye. (Cut "enjoys." Passionate about science fiction.)

 

~~~an hour later~~~

 

Castiel was already nearly falling asleep against the cushions of the couch while Dean still was enthralled by the film (he'd watched it roughly twelve times since he'd bought it three months ago, judging by the way a few scenes skipped as it played.) He'd just been blankly following the screen for nearly an hour now, occasionally glancing over at Dean on the other end of the couch, who was still sitting right up. Castiel only shifted on his pillow to gain more comfort in watching the both of them.

 

Though he hadn't been following along with the plot of the film, he still found Dean's never ending reactions to be entertaining. The way his whole body moved with him when he laughed. How tense his shoulders became when something unfortunate happened on the screen. It all seemed to become a pattern after a while, and Castiel was starting to lose interest until a new reaction formed. The man in yellow- Kirk, as he recalled- came on screen, and Dean seemed to stop. He didn't shovel any more of the buttered popcorn into his mouth, (he'd gotten up three times to refill in the course of an hour. Castiel was almost appalled) he didn't move, didn't speak, he hardly breathed. But even in the dark, Castiel could see that Dean's eyes had softened. Even his hand lingered over the bowl that he'd set in his lap. That's when Castiel felt the realization come with a burn in his face. (Dean has a crush on Kirk.)

 

~~~

 

"Cas...hey, Cas, wake up..." his voice was almost distant as Castiel reluctantly opened his eyes.  
"Mmm," Castiel made a noise as he sat up, blinking away the faint blur from sleep in his eyes. Instead of actually getting up, his body fell back down against the couch, and almost instantly he began to fall back asleep.  
"Yeah, ok, I get it," be heard Dean say. Castiel waited to hear his fading footsteps before shutting himself down again, but instead felt his whole body being jerked awake as he was lifted off the couch.  
"What the hell are you doing?" Castiel asked, yawning as he did so.  
"If you're not going to bed, then I'll take you there. You're not sleeping on a dirty couch." Castiel yawned again.  
"Yes, I noticed that... just go get some spray or some shit," he mumbled. Dean chuckled, and Castiel could feel it run through his chest.  
"Wow, it's been a while since I heard you speak so undignified." Castiel lazily smacked his shoulder, his hand flopping and curling back against his chest once he did.  
"Shut the fuck up and let me sleep." He buried his face against Dean's shirt, not speaking after that.

 

He was half asleep when Dean lied him gently on one side of the bed, and he could feel the mattress sink on the other end as Dean threw the covers over the two of them. Judging by the amount of personal space Castiel could practically feel being invaded between the two of them, there had to be less than a foot empty between them. He curled up into the pillow, feeling much more comfortable than he did on the couch outside, and rolled his body the other way. The nearly six inch space in between was nonexistent.

 

~~~

 

"What is it, Dean?" Cas mumbled some time later. Dean shifted from underneath Castiel, awakening. The room was pitch black, besides the alarm clock, which read 3:26 A.M.  
"I didn't say anything," he said quietly. Castiel shook his head.  
"Yes you did," he argued. "Then who's in the living room?" Finally, Dean sat up, leaving Castiel's head in his lap. He blinked away the sleep from his eyes, giving in. No sign of life was shown outside the door, the living room as dark as his bedroom.  
"There's no one in there, Cas," he said. "Sam and Jess are in their room. We locked the doors, there's no one here." He looked back down at his lap; Cas didn't answer. "Cas?" He fell back asleep. "Dammit," Dean said under his breath. Slowly, he slipped back onto his bed, adjusting Cas' bed-head back onto his chest, and tried to fall back asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then:  
> Once returning back to his apartment, Dean helps to clean up Cas' appearance before his brother and his fiance come through the door. While doing so, Dean learns a bit more about Cas' stability and begins to question exactly what he'd brought himself in to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was just so busy writing this, turns out I accidentally finished it early. Oh well. Enjoy the surprise early update!
> 
> I actually really like writing Cas' character in this one. Getting to see inside his mind is really interesting, but trust me, it gets even better later on.
> 
> Enjoy! Remember to leave feedback , I love to hear your response!

 

"Cas...hey, Cas, come on, I gotta drop Sammy off for classes at noon." Dean lightly shook Castiel in his sleep, the mattress creaking slightly as he nudged his body. "Cas." He said his name a little louder. Castiel didn't even move. Concerned, Dean held his hand near Cas' face, checking for breathing. The steady pattern of breaths never broke. "Cas, wake up," he said persistently. He shoved him with more force, but still he didn't wake. "Fucking-" Dean muttered, "Cas!" Dean almost began panicking, worried Cas had placed himself into a coma, or did some sort of overdose, or possibly both. He jerked back the sheets, placing his fingers by the pulse on Cas' neck. Even his heartbeat was at a regular pace. "What the hell- Cas!"  
"Dean, what are you doing?" Turning around, Dean saw Sam by the door frame, already dressed and ready for Dean to drop him off at the university. A flash of worry sparked in his eyes when he saw his brother's panicked expression.  
"Sammy, he's not waking up," Dean hurried.  
"What do you mean, ' he's not waking up?'"  
"What the fuck do you think I mean? He's been asleep since nine last night and- what time is it?" Sam glanced at the clock in the other room.  
"Shit- 11:38 am," Sam said. Dean dragged a hand over his face, overwhelmed.  
"Fucking hell."  
"Well, I mean- does he have anything wrong with him? Mental conditions, I mean?" Dean looked back over to Cas, who hadn't moved even an inch. Sociopath, possible serial killer...does that count as a "mental condition?"  
"I don't fucking know, Sam, " he said, "I just don't fucking know."  
"Well hey, don't- just calm down, Dean, I'm sure he's ok." Dean still watched over Cas. Slowly, he nodded his head.  
"Yeah, I know."

 

It was silent for was seemed like hours, but the clock only read about four minutes. Sam had left the room to finish getting himself ready for school, and no doubt texting Jess as he did so. But Dean still stayed in the room; he didn't attempt in waking him, knowing by now that it would be useless. Then, from outside, came the sound of a single gunshot, awakening everyone's attention to the window. Even Cas- he shot up immediately from his position, throwing a hand over Dean's chest. Three more gunshots followed. "What the shit?!" Dean heard Sam shout from the kitchen. Dean stayed with Cas, who was staring straight out the window above the bed.  
"Cas, are you ok?" Dean asked. Castiel only nodded. The sound of rioting traffic sprung from outside, police vehicles surrounding the area, along with loud cars filled with impatient people. Castiel turned to Dean, his head tilted and seemingly confused.  
"Don't you have to drop Sam off?"

 

~~~

 

In the car, Castiel was so caught up in whatever crime scene took place outside their apartment to even hear what Dean was saying. Something was wrong. There wasn't even a murder, why is it such a distraction? "Cas!" His head snapped over to his attention.  
"Yes?"  
"Are you going to answer me?" Dean cocked an eyebrow. He was impatient. He must have been calling for him several times. Castiel nodded, glancing back at the scene outside the window.  
"Yes, of course, I...uh..." Even Sam turned around from the passenger seat to glance at him. "What was the question?" Dean turned away, rolling his eyes.  
"What was up with this morning?" Castiel looked down at his lap, staring at the design of his jeans, trying to focus. (Dean worked with mechanics, judging from the slightly darker stain on the black material.) "Cas, you gonna answer me?"  
"There was nothing wrong," Castiel said, turning back to the window.  
"Oh really? So sleeping for..." Castiel was amused at his Dean began to count on his fingers, "nearly fifteen hours straight is 'nothing wrong?'" Castiel slumped back in his seat, frowning at the window. "Now come on, don't start acting like a pissy baby because you almost gave me a freaking heart attack." Castiel still didn't look in his direction.  
"I think you hurt his feelings, " Sam said.

 

~~~

 

The drive home Sam's drop off was mostly silent, other than the sound of traffic and the low humming of the radio, barely audible but still playing. "Come on, Cas, talk to me," Dean gave in to the silence.  
"There wasn't even a murder," was all he said. Dean sighed.  
"That's all you got?" He asked.  
"No- Dean, you don't understand. There was no murder outside of your apartment." Dean gave a sideways glance over to Cas.  
"Umm, ok? And? What does that have to do with-"  
"Four gunshots, no victim. If it was a murder, there would be a body at the scene. But no ambulances were called in, only police scouting the area. It can't get any simpler, Dean." His words were hard and on edge as he spoke. "It was a signal. And I know by who."  
"You do?" Dean asked, once again taking his eyes off the traffic. Cas nodded.  
"They've been looking for me for some time. Word of my escape would certainly have traveled quickly throughout the link."  
"What link?" Castiel didn't answer, only casted Dean a knowing glance.

 

~~~

 

The clock read 7:58 p.m.. Dean had gone to the shower, and Sam and Jess had gone out to the theater, (Dean almost fell for their "study time" as they had suggested) leaving Castiel alone for what would roughly be fifteen minutes. Looking on their tiny bookshelf for something to pass the time, he found something much more interesting than the veterinary text and biology textbooks that lined the shelves. Castiel picked up the framed photo of a blonde haired woman with a young child, possibly six years old. Between the photograph and the glass was a pressed rose. (The child is Dean, he deduced. Green eyes, light hair, at the time, with matching features to the woman.) "Their mother..." Castiel said under his breath. (Deceased. The rose was from her funeral.) He set the photo back in its original place where it would seem undisturbed. Along with it was a photograph of Sam and Jess together at their graduation ceremony and one of Sam and Dean, looking towards the camera and raising their beer bottles in sync. It made Castiel smile to himself. Though there was a picture of their mother, there was no father present. (Also true for their childhood.) Looking back to their mother, he noticed a small black box next to the frame. Opening it, he found two small gold bands set inside. The names "John" and "Mary" we're engraved, one name for each. (Father is decreased.)

 

On the coffee table, a vibration and shrill sound came from the phone. Dean must have left it there before his shower. Castiel glanced from the phone to the door two rooms away, but even questioning himself couldn't suppress his curiosity. He picked up the phone, the light illuminating his features as a new text almost threw him off guard. Almost.

  
Lisa: Who's the new friend, Cassie? 8:06 pm

 

Definitely not said Lisa. Castiel rolled his eyes.

 

Dean: How did you get this number? 8:06 pm  
Lisa: A few photo scans can cause wonders. 8:06 pm  
Lisa: But never mind that. 8:07 pm  
Lisa: Did I catch your attention? 8:07 pm

 

Castiel's memories flushed back from the earlier morning.

 

Dean: Quite. 8:07 pm  
Lisa: So, are you going to answer my question? 8:07 pm  
Dean: He's only a friend. He means no harm. 8:08 pm  
Dean: Don't you dare touch him. 8:08 pm  
Lisa: Don't fret, darling, you can have your chew toy for yourself. 8:08 pm  
Lisa: But I must ask that you bring him with you. 8:09 pm

 

Castiel glanced over to the bathroom door. A dangerous smile took place on his lips.

 

Dean: Bring my stuff. I just might. 8:09 pm  
Lisa: Good. 8:09 pm  
Lisa: Delete these messages. 8:09 pm  
Dean: But first 8:10 pm  
Dean: What of Lisa? 8:10 pm  
Lisa: If it really is of your concern, she's fine. All things must awake eventually. 8:10 pm

 

Castiel exhaled a laugh.

 

Dean: I will see you tonight, Crowley. 8:10 pm.

 

Castiel deleted the messages just as he heard Dean turn off the shower water. He was three minutes early.

 

 

~~~

 

 

Castiel stopped the car once they were in front of a run down brick building, rolling the Impala smoothly into the wide gap of an alleyway. The windows of the building were covered in black tarp from the inside, and heavy boards blocked the front entrance. The entire feel of the place gave Dean goosebumps, unknowing where he was headed. He seemed to experience that a lot with Cas- if anything, it excited him.

 

Giving Cas the wheel of his baby was a terrible idea as it is, but at least he was gentlemanly about it. Once the car was in park, he stepped outside, gently closing the door, then came to the other side to hold the door open for Dean, even holding his hand out for him as he did so. From there he led him further into the alleyway, their footsteps eerily audible on the concrete below, but somehow never calling for attention of anyone on the streets. Dean could piece together what type of neighborhood this was just from that information alone. Castiel still held onto his hand as he stopped at a door at the very end of the alley, knocking on it four times before stepping back to wait. Almost immediately there was an answer, mimicking the four knocks in return. The door unlocked, and a blonde man in a v-neck t-shirt appeared in front of them. His eyes widened when his eyes caught sight of Cas. "Cassie!" He exclaimed, his British accent clear in his voice. The man planted a kiss right on Cas' cheek as he pulled him in for a hug. "It's been too long! Where have you been, you bloke?"  
"Don't ask stupid questions," Castiel said with a smile. Dean was almost taken aback by their friendliness. The man stepped back, glancing up and down at Dean.  
"You must be Dean," he said. Dean looked at Cas for a second before looking back.  
"You know me?" He asked. The man laughed.  
"Know you? This idiot never shuts up about you!" Cas' blush was visible even in the dark. The man held out a hand to Dean. "I'm Balthazar, "he said. Dean took his hand cautiously, but Balthazar was gentle enough. "Come on in, you two. Cassie, I've got you set up." Balthazar winked at Cas, while he only rolled his eyes.

 

Inside, Dean was mostly surprised at how soundproof the building must actually be; loud music was booming through the air, along with bright neon lights illuminating the large room. Up on his right was a large stage just like the ones he'd seen at several different clubs, a pole connected to the ceiling and everything.

 

But when Cas entered the room, it was as though the party had just begun. Everyone in the room stopped, and just after seconds of noticing him, loud cheers filled the room, drinks were being held up, and Dean even had to duck as a few cans flew past him. Cas just smiled and bowed dramatically once as though this were completely normal. "Come on, you two," Balthazar said, "let's take you to the back." Balthazar led them up the stage and behind the large curtains and gold beads to a smaller room filled with plush sofas and better lighting. At least four other people were sat on the sofas, drinking something from what looked like a luxury bar in the back. Another British man, this one older, spoke up after taking a drink, "Castiel, how have you been?"  
"Just fine, Crowley. And you haven't aged a day," Castiel tilted his head with a smile.  
"That's Uncle Crowley, you brat." Castiel only kept smiling, to Dean's never-ending surprise. He turned to face him.  
"Dean, this is Crowley." The man behind him rolled his eyes, to Dean's amusement.  
"So, this is your boyfriend? Glad I finally got to meet him," Crowley said, not looking up from his drink. Dean stammered on his words.  
"I- I'm not-"  
"Oh, hush," Crowley interrupted, "of course you are. Now come, sit down." Dean hesitantly followed orders, sitting on the luxury sofa next to a dark haired woman. She winked at him before she spoke.  
"Hello, the name's Meg," she said. She threw an arm over the back of the sofa, not-so-coincidentally around his shoulders. Meg seemed to make sure that her purple crop top was a distraction for him. "How long have you known Clarence?" Dean was confused at first before concluding that she meant Castiel.  
"A few days, I guess." He answered. A laugh came from the other end of Crowley's sofa.  
"Well that's a lie for sure," the man's voice seemed full of playfulness as he spoke, "he's only been mentioning you for, what, four years now?" He laughed again as he took a sip from his drink.  
"Sorry about Gabriel," Cas said, "you get used to it."  
"Why don't you get back to the pole, Cassie, I think Kali's gettin' tired." Gabriel cocked his head towards the curtain where he could faintly see a beautiful dark skinned woman working the pole outside. "Don't even think about it, Winchester," Gabriel said, "she's claimed."  
"More like he's claimed," Cas said under his breath. "I'll head out, keep Dean some company, guys."  
"Castiel, before you go," Crowley said. Cas looked down at him from where he was standing. "You're things are in the back." Almost instantly, Castiel beamed, detouring to the back of the room where a pile of dark clothes were folded neatly on the bar. Castiel checked out of the room and hopped down the stairs of the stage, supposedly finding a bathroom.

 

Once everyone was sure that Cas was gone, they turned to him, watching with worried eyes. "Tell me, Dean," Balthazar started, "how's he been?"  
"Fine, I guess, other than, well, what I'm guessing is normal for you guys."  
"No," Gabriel spoke up, "we mean, has he been acting strange, at all?" Dean shrugged, confused.  
"Depends on what is strange, for him."  
"Has he been getting a hold of his medication?" Balthazar asked. Dean looked to him, wide eyed.  
"What medi- what's wrong?" He could see Crowley slump back in his seat, setting his drink down before rubbing a hand over his face.  
"Oh no," he groaned.  
"What? Is he ok?" Dean asked frantically. Even Meg dropped her flirty attitude and fell into her seat.  
"Cassie, he..." Balthazar began, "he's a good man, alright? He really is. But ever since he..." he took a deep breath before continuing, "He was sixteen when he began to...slip, you know? Something traumatic. He just... we aren't supposed to talk about it. Not supposed to tell anyone. But..." Balthazar raised a hand to his chest. " Cassie, he was... he wasn't the same." Dean listened intently the whole time, a blow hitting his chest. "He had nothing to do with anything, but Castiel still feels responsible for it. Ever since that day, he's been having... episodes, and it's... it's been hard on all of us."  
"What happened? Who did it?" Dean asked. Balthazar shook his head.  
"I'm afraid we can't tell you that." He hadn't noticed that Crowley had gotten up, but he returned to Dean with a small paper bag in his hand.  
"We try to help him," Gabriel said, "but all we can do is give him his medication."  
"Just give it to him every other day. It'll last," Crowley said.  
"How..." Dean trailed off, "how will I know when he needs it?" Everyone just watched him.  
"Believe us," Meg said from beside him, "you'll know."

 

Dean's phone began to vibrate from his pocket, which ceased the entire conversation. He took his cell from his pocket and checked his messages. Only one: "Let's have some fun" -Cas. How in hell he managed to add himself to Dean's contacts, he had no idea. But from outside, he could see Cas toss his own phone onto the stage floor. Dean stood from his seat, coming to the curtain and pulling it aside. Cas twirled around the pole to see him, and Dean's mouth went completely dry. A black leather trench coat hung from his shoulders and tailed down past his knees, with only a dark corset and a reappearance of the leather shorts on underneath. Along with it were matching combat boots and a black leather choker with chains connected around his neck. Looking at his face, he admired the eyeliner framing his deep blue eyes. "Hello, Dean," even his familiar, deep voice set Dean on the edge. He held out a hand even as one leg was still wrapped around the pole, black nail polish obviously new on his nails. Dean took the hand and was thrown off guard at Cas' strength as he pulled him close. Castiel twisted around the pole, bringing his legs up and flipping himself upside down with agility he'd had no idea Cas possessed. His dark hair fell off of his forehead as he hung inches away from Dean's face. "The audience is waiting, Dean," he said playfully. Though Dean had no idea what game Cas was playing, he decided he may as well go by the rules. He smashed his lips against his, grabbing Cas' face and throwing his whole body with him. Dean tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered at Cas' groan. Castiel broke the kiss, twirling his body back upright and sliding off the pole. He pulled Dean closer to him, with him expecting another make out session for show, only for him to twist his body around and shove him against the pole. Castiel bucked his hips against him, breath hot and heavy against his neck as his teeth dragged like a ghost against his skin. He shrugged the trench coat off his shoulders and to the floor as he traveled lower. Dean wasn't sure if he could tell him to stop. Instead, he said, "This isn't right, Cas." Castiel's piercing eyes shot up at him.  
"And yet you want this." Dean wasn't going to lie, this may be the greatest moment of his life, but that may just be the weed in the air telling him that. "I've seen your fantasies, Dean. You don't hide them very well. But I won't continue unless you let me." Dean expected him to say that just to turn him on even more, expected him to continue teasing him, but he didn't. He just sat there on his knees, still and looking up to him, waiting for permission. The small crowd below the stage cheered them on, but Dean had muted them out for so long he wondered how long they'd been watching.  
"God, yes, Cas," he finally broke, head tipping back against the metal pole. Castiel nodded, hands traveling up his shirt and teeth clenching on the waist of his jeans. His tongue dipped inside his jeans, popping the button and leaving trails on his skin, breath hot and causing a moan to escape from Dean's throat. Cas' thumb looped on the hem of lace from his under-clothing, causing a blush to burn even deeper into Dean's face. Cas only chuckled against his skin, making Dean's jeans get even tighter.

Cas took no time to take his hands to Dean's back, trailing down to his ass and grabbing the back of his jeans. A few simple tugs was all it took to drag the rough clothing low enough to expose the pink, lacy satin underneath, pulling the fly of his jeans down to gain better access. His dick twitched in the thin fabric as Cas' lips parted over the covered head, dampening with precome under his mouth. Cas' thumbs rubbed circles against Dean's hip bones, and Dean bucked his hips forwards from reaction, forcing his cock past Cas' lips. Dean stretched his hands behind his head, traveling up the back of the pole and locking them there for better support as his knees began to buckle. He moaned as Cas' tongue dragged from his covered base and back to the head, teasing him as though both Heaven and Hell were punishing him at once.

 

Slowly, Cas uncovered his erection and seconds later his mouth went back to work. Cas rocked his hips forward as he sat on his knees, grinding against the leather. Dean groaned as he took him all in, tongue trailing from the base and back to the head. Cas hummed, sending vibrations all through him, and Dean couldn't suppress the filthy noises building up inside of him. He was already so close, his mind white blank and unable to control his dirty panting. One hand let go of the pole and buried itself in Cas' dark, messy hair, clenching in a vice grip. "C-Cas..." He moaned. "Cas, Cas!" Castiel took him in again, nearly down his throat and Dean could feel his orgasm building on edge. "Fuck, oh god, fuck- Cas- Cas, you gotta- ah!" He clenched his jaw as Cas continued teasing him, and he could practically feel the fucker smiling in satisfaction as he continued taking him down. "Ah- Cas, Cas- I'm gonna- fuck!" He shouted. He felt as though he were on the edge of a razor, about to explode, white flashes burning and pulsing behind his eyes. His nerves sparked and suddenly the pole wasn't enough to keep him upright, his knees buckling underneath him. Everything just continued building and building building, and he was going blind and deaf all at once until finally, finally he felt himself explode and nearly collapse. He had his eyes closed tightly but he could just imagine himself coming all over Cas' face, and he could hear the beautiful fucker laughing as he did so. Opening his eyes, he wasn't wrong, but Castiel wasn't cleaning it off either. He licked the corner of his mouth where Dean had ruined him, but he had no expression of disgust.  
"You're not very quiet, you know," he said, smiling. Dean covered his face with his hand.  
"Fuck you," he groaned. Castiel chuckled.  
"Maybe later, I don't think you're too up to it at the moment." Cas winked as he stood up, placing his lips against Dean's cheek before he swaggered off to the bathroom to clean up.

 

 

 

 

The next hour was nothing more than a blur in Dean's eyes. He could barely remember the names he'd learned in the room, more caught up in whether or not he was better at pool when he was high. The drunkards in the room welcomed him with open arms (almost too well once it settled in that a few of them were hitting on him). But the one thing that struck him as odd (including the flirting) was that Cas was nowhere to be seen. He'd already checked the bathroom, which, of course, had no sign of him. The back room behind the stage was clear of him as well. Had he left already and left him here? Seemed like a very "Cas" thing for him to do.

 

Dean slipped away from the small crowd of people, heading outside and, for what felt like the first time in days, was engulfed with pure silence. Not a single sign of life was present on the streets except for a matted cat curling around in the empty trash cans. Before finally giving up and rejoining the crowd inside, Dean's eyes fell upon the rusted steps of a fire escape on the side of the building. He glanced out at the street once more before taking them, wincing at the creak of aged metal beneath his feet as he did.

 

He saw him from the last step of the fire escape, silhouetted by the moonlight above. Its light rippled amongst the water in the lake below them. It almost surprised him that a run down place such as this was built winding around the body of water. Castiel sat on the edge of the roof, looking blankly forward at the scenery. "There you are," Dean said. He skipped the last step of the fire escape and paced himself over to him, where Cas sat still, not looking at him. His eyeliner was smudged slightly around his eyes as stared out at the water. "You doin' ok?" Castiel slowly looked away, then down to his lap.  
"They told you, didn't they?" Castiel asked quietly.  
"Told me what?" Cas shot him a look, giving him eye contact for the first time. Dean sighed, looking away and to the lake. "Yeah, they did," he said. Castiel turned his head back down to his lap.  
"How much?" His voice sounded sorrowful, broken. But his face remained the same.  
"I don't know, "Dean answered truthfully. He watched as Cas closed his eyes, the deep blue filled with pale moonlight fading away. It left Dean feeling alone.  
"Well, it's true," Cas said quietly, "everything. And...I'm sorry you had to find out." He opened his eyes again, looking at Dean. They shone bright even in the night.  
"You don't have to be," Dean said, almost a whisper, "it's not your fault." Castiel shook his head, but didn't say anything.

 

They sat there in silence, legs brushing against each other off the edge of the roof, not a word exchanged. Dean hadn't noticed just how cold the rooftop concrete really was in the night autumn air until he realized be could feel Castiel's body radiating warmth from beside him. Something longed to reach out for more. "Dean..." Castiel whispered, his voice lighter than normal.  
"Yeah, Cas?" Dean responded. Castiel looked into his eyes, his own black framed eyes illuminating light blue when he turned from the moonlight.  
"What are we?" Dean gave a shaky laugh, shaking his head.  
"I have no fucking clue, Cas." Castiel only stared at him, then after a moment, he gave his own quiet laugh. "I guess we're both just a couple of dumbasses." Cas smiled, just a little.  
"I prefer the word 'trusting'," he said. The warmth he gave finally came into contact, Castiel's fingers lightly brushing against Dean's. Dean glanced down, only for a moment. "Less dumb, less ass." The corner of Dean's lips twitched in a small grin.  
"So that just leaves-"  
"Not exactly," Castiel cut in, "but then again, how else do we explain what happened back downstairs?" Dean blinked at him, and then he could feel his face become hot within seconds when he remembered.  
"Oh my god," he groaned, "did we really do that?" Castiel laughed, his low tone soothing Dean almost instantly.  
"Just another thing to add to a lifetime of regrets," he said playfully. Dean groaned again.  
"Well," he said from behind his hands, "I wouldn't call it a regret." Castiel chucked again. Dean felt as though he'd do anything to make him do that.  
"I would hope so."

 

When Dean reappeared from hiding behind his hands, he could see that Cas' smile had faded, leaving him looking empty. Dean's faded too, the expression leaving him a lighter feeling of heartbreak. "It doesn't matter, anyway," Cas said. He was staring down at his lap again.  
"What do you mean?" Dean asked. Castiel still didn't turn to face him.  
"You'll leave. I already know." Dean shook his head.  
"What? Cas, I..." he stopped himself. What he was about to say would have hurt Cas even more than what he decided next. "Yeah," he said, almost whispering, "yeah, I thought so too." He couldn't deny that. No matter how much he tried to force that decision down, he couldn't go without admitting it in the end. Castiel was still looking away from him, but Dean could almost feel his hurt. He couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like for Cas himself, being able to feel other's emotions like a sixth sense. He had to fix that. "But then I got to know you better." Though Castiel remained silent, he turned to look at him. Dean sighed. "Look, Cas, I'm not good with this kind of stuff-"  
"Emotions?" Castiel asked.  
"Yeah, that."  
"Neither am I." Those lingering fingertips brushed against his own again. Cas' nail polish was already chipped, revealing the natural nail under solid black.  
"I'm trying to say, that...yeah, you were trouble. Hell, I'm not even sure if you ever aren't," his heart fluttered when Castiel smiled, looking down, though he'd never admit to it, "but...I'm not gonna leave you behind. I don't want to make anyone feel like that." Castiel tilted his head, his brows furrowed.  
"Because you've been abandoned before," he said. It wasn't a question. Dean shook his head.  
"I didn't say that."  
"But you did," Cas said, "Dean...your father, I'm sorry about what he did to you."  
"I didn't say anything about my dad," Dean said through gritted teeth. Castiel nodded.  
"I understand." He didn't want to say it, but he hated the fact that Cas could see straight through him as though he were nothing more than a piece of glass. Every detail of his life, he knew this one man could read it all. "I'm sorry." He had said it so quietly that Dean almost didn't catch it. Almost. "But Dean?" Dean looked back up at him, sparks flying through his fingertips with another touch. "I'm not going to hurt you. I need..." he looked down for a moment, but when he locked eyes with him again, they were determined as ever, "I need you to understand that."

 

Castiel got to his feet, towering over Dean with the tail of his black coat flying slightly in the breeze over the rooftop. He held out his hand, his eyes never leaving his. Dean grasped it, slowly, watching his hand the entire time as his bowed legs stretched out and brought him to his feet. Cas raised their hands up closer to his face, his thumb rubbing gently over Dean's knuckles, tracing the scars and their wear. His eyes seemed lightened with awe. "This is nothing," he said, "not a proposal, not anything. Just a promise..." he stopped speaking, only for a moment. "A vow, if you will." Dean said nothing as Castiel raised Dean's hand to linger across his lips. "We're very alike, you and I...we share more of a profound bond, as I'd like to call it. But..." his eyes flickered upwards to meet Dean's, always the deep black framing bright blue. The contrast never ceased to amaze him. "In order for a profound bond to work, there must be a trust reciprocated between the two of us. Dean Winchester?" Dean watched him, giving silence as an answer. "Do you trust me?" He stood still, then nodded, almost cautiously. "Are you sure? It's a dangerous decision." This was true. Even now, Dean knew that if anyone else, he still would trouble with mutual trust. But Cas...he wasn't quite sure what made him different. He nodded. Castiel kept eye contact, watching into his bright green eyes, like the sky meeting the earth. His hand met Dean's face, and being just the two of them, Dean leaned into the touch. He'll never know what made Castiel different. Cas' thumb traced just below his eye, and Dean closed them, giving him his sign of trust.

 

He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting after his eyes were closed, blinding him from further events upon the rooftop. There were no crashing of lips, no sparks like he would imagine there to be. But there was a rush of cold air once his feet left the safe security of the rooftop, the warmth of Castiel's arms enclosed around him, and the exhilaration of the fall. Cas' face stayed close to his, as though a reassurance, and he never let go even as they collided almost slowly into the water of the sparkling lake three stories down. Castiel pulled him close, and Dean's eyes opened as he began to resurface, dark blue surrounding him and, despite the circumstances, it felt serene.

 

Castiel's body was a relief as he pulled Dean into his arms, and Dean just stayed there, taking in all of the heat enveloping him. He could hear a steady heartbeat against his ear, contrasting his rapidly beating one. Cas kept them afloat in the water as he pulled them to a place more shallow. Once he could feel land under feet, Castiel lied back, letting the water overtake him. Dean watched over him, watching as the clear water moved back and forth, back and forth over Castiel's body. His dark hair was dampened on his forehead, contrasting his still light skin. A light tan was beginning to take place, but in the moonlight, there was no telling.

 

He took the dripping collar of Dean's green shirt and tugged him closer. Understanding, Dean closed his eyes and went all for his suggestion. Their lips met evenly, moving slow in pace and taking the moment in as it should. Their lips were in sync, hands all over each other. Castiel's tongue pressed against Dean's lips as he parted his mouth, dancing over his teeth before Dean allowed his entrance. He could feel those tight leather shorts grinding up against him, Cas' hips bucking up against his as he let out a moan. Dean parted for a moment, taking in a breath and watching Cas lying below him. The eyeliner was almost transparent now, washed away by the clean water, leaving him look naked and vulnerable, less intimidating. It was beautiful. Cas' pupils were blown, lips swollen from their session and gazing up at him with adoration. "God, Cas..." Dean breathed. "I..." Cas reached up, cupping his face with one hand and rubbing a thumb just below his eye. Dean sighed, his eyes fluttering closed.  
"Keep them closed," Cas whispered.

 

He heard the sound before he felt the heat. It erupted over his face, and Dean's eyes opened abruptly when the flames exploded through the glass windows. They were just far enough from the site that no harm could be done to the two of them, but the impact radiated an uncomfortably blazing heat that sent ripples through the once still water. Castiel didn't move from underneath him, still watching him instead of the flames. "Cas-?" Dean breathed.  
"They're ok, Dean," Castiel answered, knowing his questions. "We've been targeted for years, Dean. They simply got too close."  
"Who?" Dean asked, impatient, "what's going on, Cas?" Castiel was silent, watching out towards the burning building. Silhouetted figures were grouped together, rushing out from the alleyway and away from the fire.  
"We should go."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then:  
> Cas takes Dean to meet his family, consisting of his two brothers and a small handful of close friends, at an abandoned club in a forgotten part of the city of Vegas. While Dean is alone, Castiel's family gives him a deeper insight of the man's past, leaving him questioning more than he knew.

Before he could do anything to stop him, Castiel had his hands on his brother's shoulders and he was shoving him up against the wall. "You told him?!" He began shouting. Dean took a step forward to stop him, but the rest of Cas' makeshift family was already one step ahead of him, pulling Cas backwards off of Balthazar who still kept himself pinned to the brick wall. Dean looked down the street for lights, hoping there was no one around to bring their attention to the group of them as the shouting continued. "What did you fucking tell him?!"  
"Cassie, nothing happened-"  
"We were just trying to help-"  
"Clarence, you gotta calm down-"  
"I'm not a fucking child!" Cas broke free from Gabriel's hold, staggering forward and eyes stabbing like daggers at everyone around him. Even Dean took a step back, terrified- he'd never seen Cas, or anyone, really, be so angry in his life.  
"Cas, really, they just wanted to help you," Dean spoke up. Castiel turned towards his direction, but his line of vision couldn't reach his, instead just past his shoulder. He almost seemed afraid. "Cas, look at me," Dean said. Castiel blinked, then glanced over at him. He didn't say a word, his breaths broken with each one he took.

 

"Come on, Cassie, I'm taking you home " Gabriel said, leading him away with a hand on his shoulder. His brother looked over to Dean, cocking his head to the side in a sign to follow. He was almost hesitant at first, but there was no way he'd let himself leave Cas behind. His change in speed showed that directly. Gabriel led the three of them into a red Cadillac parked on the edge of the street, and Dean watched over his shoulder to see the rest of the group entering different vehicles, up to nearly four per car. Castiel shifted into the back seat, taking a large blanket from behind him first and wrapping it around his shoulders. Dean had almost forgotten that he was still dripping wet from the lake, and opened his mouth to speak just before Gabriel interrupted him. "Its just water, you'll be fine," he said. At this point, Dean didn't even question how he knew his words before he spoke them. He'd just assumed the entire family carried the same trait.

 

Dean sat himself beside Cas who, without needing to ask permission, draped the blanket around Dean's shoulders and pulled him closer until they were shoulder to shoulder. Neither of them said a word as Gabriel turned on the engine of the car, proceeding to drive it out of park. "Where are we going?" Dean asked, confusion seeping in through his voice.  
"I'm taking Cassie home. And now that you're with us, it's not safe here for you. I gotta take you with me." Dean almost choked on air.  
"Excuse me, what?" He said in disbelief, "hell no! Isn't that kidnapping or some shit? I've got a brother back home, and- I can't just-"  
"Your brother is fine," Gabriel said, "Sam will be alright on his own." Dean decided not to ask how he knew the name of his brother, instead slumping back in his seat.  
"Un-fucking-believable," he said under his breath. Cas gave him a sideways glance, but said nothing.

 

~~~

 

It had been three hours. Three hours and thirty seven minutes, to be exact, of nothing but silence between the group of them. It was now 4:52 am, and the only time he couldn't feel the moving vehicle sending vibrations all around him were when Gabriel would pull into a gas station off the side of the road for more gas and a smoke. Sadly, not even his subconscious would let him rest, as he was reviewing all of this in his mind when only his body would let him sleep.

 

Finally, he snapped himself awake in frustration, finding that Dean was still lying beside him, half asleep, as it seemed. He'd have to be careful not to awake him. Gabriel, however, was still wide awake, and unfortunately Castiel knew the cause. He brushed it aside, knowing that it wasn't a concern. At the moment. He'd taken so many drugs before that to this point, all it did to him was act as though it were nothing more than caffeine. Instead, he looked back to Dean, gently placing a hand over his forehead. Luckily, there was no increase in body heat due to fever. Castiel began questioning whether leading Dean away from the oncoming explosion and into the water was such a wise decision. But he needed to enforce trust between the two of them at some point, and that was the way to go. He decided not to think too much of his decisions. He looked back out the window, where the sun was just beginning to rise across the stretch of inhabited earth. A sign reading "Leaving Las Vegas" rolled by as they drove past.

 

~~~

 

"Gabriel, Dean wants to listen to the radio." How he knew that when Dean was barely awake, he didn't think he'd ever manage to find out. But Dean didn't protest as Gabriel turned on the oldies-to-today rock station, instead trying to fall back asleep while he still could. Dean hummed his voice awake before he tried to speak.  
"What time is it?" He asked, his voice quieter than he expected.  
"5:08 in the morning," Cas replied softly, as though Dean were still asleep. Dean sat back up, unsurprised at the lack of space between himself and the man beside him. Stretching, he looked outside the window to see sparsely spread trees populating a large stretch of land, with hardly a sign of life in sight. It was still dark out. "We're somewhere in the countryside," Cas said, his voice barely a pitch louder, "it's alright, we still have some time. Go back to sleep, Dean." Being honest with himself, he still could barely keep his eyes open. He could feel the weight of Cas' arm behind his shoulders, lying the blanket back into place, and Dean took the invitation to lean back against him. The radio played softly throughout the car, humming through the atmosphere with the cover of Heathens by Halestorm coming through the speakers. Dean began to fall asleep as the first notes came playing, drifting off the the lyrics.

  
_"All my friends are heathens, take it slow_  
_Wait for them to ask you who you know..."_

 

~~~

  
By the time he awoke the next morning, the sun had already risen, casting a bright, pale yellow light across the stretch of earth. Cas hadn't moved the whole morning, keeping himself still even as Dean stirred awake. He blinked the blur in his vision away as he stretched out under Castiel's arm. The other man was currently in conversation with his brother, but smiled in acknowledgement as Dean awoke. "Good morning," he said. Dean yawned.  
"Morning...what time is it?" He asked.  
"8:27am," Cas replied. Dean smiled to himself.  
"Do you have a clock up their along with your other detective things?" He pointed playfully to the side of Cas' head.  
"No, the radio screen says so." Cas nodded forward to the clock installed near the volume and station knobs of the radio face. Dean laughed quietly, still too tired to give much effort into his gestures.

 

"Gabriel, there should be a gas station about three miles ahead," Cas said after leaning forward in his seat to catch a better glance at the meter.  
"Gotcha, Cassie," Gabriel said from the front side. From the reflection of the mirror, Dean noticed that Gabriel's eyes were bloodshot on the corners.  
"Dude, did you sleep at all last night?" Dean asked.  
"Nah, didn't need to," Gabriel said nonchalantly. From beside him, Cas was shaking his head.  
"What do you mean, you-" Castiel shot him a sideways glance, one of disappointment and, just slightly, of boredom. He wanted Dean to figure it out himself. Overall, it didn't take long before the unsettling realization settled in. "Dude, are you high right now?!"  
"Don't worry about it," Gabriel said nonchalantly, "I do this all the time, and Cassie there is still alive, isn't he?"  
"Except I've been gone for four years," Castiel said under his breath.  
"And?"  
"Gabe, how long have you let this go on?" Gabriel only shook his head.  
"It's nothing, I mean it."  
"Gabriel." He said more forcefully. He didn't respond. He only kept his bloodshot eyes focused on the road ahead of him, and Dean could have sworn he applied more pressure to the gas pedal.  
"Two years," he said under his breath.

 

 

Despite the obvious disappointment written on Cas' face, he said nothing. The car was silent as Gabriel eased the acceleration, slowing down into the gas station off the side of the road. Dean followed suit as Castiel climbed out of the car, holding the door as he slid out from his seat. Gabe went for the machine they had parked next to, taking the nozzle from his holder and working the settings on the old, worn down buttons before he began to pour the gasoline into the fuel tank.

 

"Gabriel," Cas whispered. Gabe took his eyes off the gas pump he was holding and looked to his brother before following Cas' line of sight. An almost grey skinned man had his sunken, pale eyes on the three of them from under his hood, leaning against the wall of the station. Gabriel took a step back from the car, slowly placing the nozzle of the pump back in its holder, his eyes never leaving the man. Castiel placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, holding him back as he tried to take a step forward.  
"Who is it?" Dean whispered. Cas shushed him under his breath.  
"Dean, get back in the car."  
"Is everything ok?" Cas stared forward, never looking back.  
"Take it slow. Get in the backseat, far left."  
"Cas, are you going to be alright?" Castiel and Gabriel took a small step back. "Cas?" The man was pulling something from his back pocket.  
"GO!" Castiel pulled open the door and shoved Dean in the back, slamming it shut as he slipped from the passenger seat to the driver, Gabriel not too far behind. Gabe swung behind him, reaching behind his seat and, within seconds, had a shotgun loaded and aiming out the window like a sniper. He pulled the trigger and out shot one, two bullets from the gun. Each bullet landed in the man's skull, and he fell to the concrete floor.

 

"Put it on my tab, motherfuckers!" Gabriel shouted as they drove away, Cas putting everything he had onto the gas pedal.  
"Who the hell was that?!" Dean exclaimed, sitting up from his seat. Castiel turned back to face him, his vision switching over to over his shoulder just before his eyes widened.  
"GET DOWN!" He shouted. He took Dean by the back of his shoulder and, with unexpected strength, shoved him to the floor of the car. Glass shattered from behind them, landing in the faux leather of the passenger seat. The wound left behind was heated from the instant friction. The car swerved around a corner, but Gabriel took off his seatbelt as he turned in his seat, shotgun he'd just outside the window. When Dean checked through the back window, another vehicle was just yards away from them, a unrecognizable man aiming a pistol in Gabriel's direction. Another shot was fired, missing them just barely. Gabriel tilted the head of gun downwards at an angle, firing a bullet.  
"Shit!" He swore, reaching blindly but instinctively into the glove box. He pulled out a pack of bullets and reloaded the shotgun, once again aiming outside the window. Dean ducked back onto the floor, the sound air cut by bullets whirring past him outside the window.

 

The car swerved again, and by the way Cas hopped back to the backseat, Gabriel switching over to the driver side, he assumed the chase to be over. But then the blur of Cas' black leather coat brushed over him, and Dean caught a glance of Cas smashing his fist against the shattered glass of the window, and Dean covered his head just as Cas pulled out a handgun. Before he could even reach out for him, Cas was fitting himself through the jagged hole and kneeling on the trunk of the moving car, firing shots into the skull of the assassin in the passenger seat of the car behind them, then just as quickly pulling the trigger in the direction of the driver. The vehicle slowed, losing all control as the driver slumped against the steering wheel, sending them off the road.

 

Cas' face was blank, monotone as he slipped back into the backseat of the Cadillac. Dean, stunned, couldn't find a word to say. The blue eyed man beside him checked his ammunition, satisfied, then putting the seatbelt back over him before nonchalantly lying back in the seat. Dean only watched him with wide eyes, catching his glance. "Aren't you going to put your seatbelt back on? It's not safe to leave it," Cas said, seemingly concerned. Dean was too shocked to even look in its direction.

 

 

~~~

 

 

It was near nightfall when they finally had stopped. Thankfully, Gabriel's dosage was finally wearing off as they pulled into the driveway, though it was a hyperbole to call it one. There was only enough room for a single car, set somewhere further away from civilization, and crowded with trees on the outskirts of a creek. But to him, it was the only home that he could ever care to know.

 

He held the door open for Dean as he exited the Cadillac, and it seemed the shock of the trip had finally died down. He'd show him that the seventeen hours in confinement would be worth it. Dean looked towards the lack of a front door in what he could guess would be confusion. "Where the hell are we?" He asked.  
"We're in Lebanon, Kansas," Castiel replied. "We should wait for the others; they're coming down the drive." He, Dean and Gabriel checked down the road as a dark blue van came driving their way, settling to a stop next to the red Cadillac. The headlights died down, leaving nothing but the evening sunset to provide them with light. From the front came Balthazar and Meg, catching their glances with sorrowful eyes. Castiel tilted his head, worried, and Gabriel rushed closer to them with an unsettled expression.  
"What's wrong?" Dean asked quietly. Castiel only shook his head. The conversation was too far away and too hushed to understand. But that didn't stop the realization from dawning upon him.  
"Where's Crowley?" Castiel asked. It caught the attention of Meg and Balthazar, who were both unwilling to answer. Gabriel only shook his head from afar. That was answer enough.

 

 

(Crowley didn't make it back.)

 

 

~~~ In the Bunker ~~~

 

 

Castiel led him down the stairs, keeping in step by memory down into the pitch black room below. The aged wood of the steps creaked beneath their feet, and he could feel Dean tense from behind him. He gave a small amount of pressure to his hand, reassuring him as they took the final step onto the cold floor, leaving the stairs. "This way," Castiel whispered. He gave Dean the way before him, leading him with a hand on his shoulder, releasing when he knew when to stop. "Wait here." He turned back to the staircase, traveling to the door and closing it with a creak. He followed the sound of his own footsteps down back to Dean, sensing his hidden presence near him.

Castiel placed his hands on Dean's chest, and he could hear the man's breath hitch under his touch. He shushed him quietly, calmly. "Dean," he said, " I still haven't repaid you for your confinement." Confusion practically seeped through all of Dean as he spoke the words.  
"I don't..." he trailed off. Castiel took a step closer in the darkness, leaving hardly a single gap between them. His hands trailed up his back, climbing along his neck to play in the short strands of light brown hair he could see even without his eye's sight.  
"Do you trust me?" Castiel asked. Dean answered without hesitation this time.  
"Of course I do," he said. He pressed his lips against Dean's bared neck.  
"Good."

He reached into the pocket of his trench coat, pulling out what he knew was a lighter by the feel, the smooth, cold metal against his palm. He flipped it open, creating a tiny spark and flame between them. Castiel then threw it to the floor behind his back, letting it clatter to the floor. The light came before the warmth, a ring of flames encircling the two of them and illuminating each other's view of the other person. Dean's eyes bored into his own with awe, and Castiel couldn't hide his smug satisfaction. He took that final step closer, closing the space between their lips in perfect synchronization, hands traveling back to his hair. He took what he could in handfuls barely grasped, using his grip to bring his lower body forward, rocking against the other man. Dean moaned between their lips, placing his hands on Castiel's hips to encourage him onwards. His hands began traveling around his legs, fingers grasping inside his thighs, to finally find their place on Castiel's ass, still barely covered by sex tainted hot shorts. Castiel lifted a leg to give Dean better leverage, rutting against him and already feeling a build between himself and the leather.

Dean took a step back, bringing Castiel with him, and lowered the two of them to dungeon floor. They could feel the heat of the flickering flames all around them, only enticing them further. Looking over the man below him, Castiel was practically awestruck by the way the orange light illuminated Dean's face, his features highlighted by the flames. Castiel's eyes widened slightly, completely entranced, and his lips fell apart. He could feel a heat begin to build within him, a lightening feeling that also gained a heavy weight within his chest. He couldn't remember a time before that he'd felt so stronger in this manner. He traced his thumb over Dean's jawline, to his cheekbone just below his left eye. Tilting his head slightly, he couldn't help but just hover over the man, watching the way his eyelashes settled just above where his thumb lied on his cheekbone when he blinked, the long elegant lashes soft to the touch. The light of the fire all around them danced over his face, pointing out every single freckle along his skin with clarity. Dean closed his eyes, leaning into the touch of Castiel's palm. Lying below him, he was a thing of grace, all things pure and unadulterated in Castiel's eyes. He leaned down, gracing himself with the touch of Dean's lips. Castiel slowed their pace, even as Dean blindly reached for his shoulders, slipping off the leather trench coat and leaving nothing but skin and the black, sleek corset underneath. They parted lips only for a moment. "I take it you don't do the whole candles and roses thing, do you?" Dean said with a smirk. Castiel met his lips again, smiling as he did so. A single roll of his hips was all it took to get another sound from Dean again, moaning and tracing the ink on Castiel's back. He'd seen them on the night they'd first met, and the memory sent reaction all throughout him. The same awe was radiating from him even now, the tips of his fingers aligning with the feathers drawn down to his lower back. Castiel bucked his hips forwards another time, and Dean broke their kiss, tipping his head backwards with an expression of bliss. "God, Cas..." Castiel held himself upwards, watching over him.  
"You know my policy, Dean," was all he said. Dean nodded.  
"Yeah, yeah Cas, I'm good," he said. Castiel nodded in understanding, then proceeded to slip his hands under Dean's shirt, gradually taking the clothing upwards and pulling it gently over Dean's head. He tossed it to the side, then sat up, straddling Dean's lap, to reach behind him and untie the laces of his corset. The black leather was thrown aside like scraps, leaving nothing left on his body but the shorts and the choker once he went to un-buckle his combats. They too were set across the room, the boots clattering past the fire ring against the wall.

Within moments, Dean had taken off his brown boots and placed them with Castiel's discarded clothes. He was just unzipping his jeans when Castiel began reaching behind his neck for the choker. "Leave it," Dean asked of him. Castiel smirked, leaning down to slip his hand under the hem of Dean's jeans, rocking against the erection still hidden beneath them. Dean covered his face with a single hand, a filthy noise muffled behind it. The two of them tugged the heavy clothing down Dean's waist, discarding them once the barrier was finally removed. He began to move against Dean once again, nothing left but the same pair of satiny panties still tenting over Dean's hardness. Slowly, Castiel sat himself over it, moving back and forth on top of Dean, watching as his head fell backwards and his lips parted in pleasure. "Ah, fuck, Cas-" he said in broken syllables. Castiel decreased his pace, looping a finger underneath the panties and dragging them downward, leaving nothing left on Dean's body. "Give me a moment," Castiel whispered, moving away from him. Dean whined, not suppressing the sound in the slightest, as Castiel took the heat from him. His hands searched blindly in the pocket of his trench coat, now discarded on the floor, until he found the small bottle of lubricant he kept within it. Returning, he lowered his position, parting Dean's freckled legs around his bare shoulders, teasing him with kisses along his inner thigh. His lips moved further inward, closing a hand around his cock as he used another now lube slathered hand near Dean's hole. The moaning of the other man only increased as he pressed his index finger inside of him, moving slowly in and out. Dean's hips bucked upwards, practically begging him to continue onwards. A second finger fitted itself inside of him, pumping quicker this time, edging nearer and nearer to his prostate. "Cas, please, just-" Castiel looked up, tilting his head. No words were needed, and Castiel understood. He teased the man a few seconds further, scissoring with his fingers just to get another reaction out of Dean, and his filthy, broken groaning was all he needed to be satisfied.

With a smirk he pulled his fingers out of him, proceeding to then hoist Dean's legs over his shoulders, kissing his knees teasingly. He slipped his thumb under the leather, that was skin tight even as he dragged them downwards. With a history of skill he removed them with only a few movements. Dean practically shook from beneath him, and Castiel was gentle as he pressed into him, watching Dean's every expression and saving all of them for memory. He backed out before moving back inside of him, listening to Dean's moans as they broke from his chords. He himself felt waves of unexplainable pleasure setting his nerves on edge. He moved slowly, but pushing his pace further with every rock he made. He was surprised when a low whine escaped him, tipping his head back and losing all thought process, barely able to keep his eyes open. The weight of Dean's legs on his shoulders was almost nonexistent, getting lost in nothing but the feeling the two of them created. Dean's hands gripped what they could of Castiel's bare legs, pads of his fingers pressing into the skin. Castiel's breathing broke into jagged breaths, unable to control himself as he found himself on edge. Dean was squirming beneath him as well, filthy moans replacing words as he began to thrust himself under Castiel's control.

"Cas, I- I'm gonna-" he forced out.  
"I know, Dean, I- I cant-" before he could finish his statement, Dean was releasing with a shout, flushed and coming all over Castiel's chest. Just the sight of him, completely blissed out and exploding in almost unimaginable feeling had set him on fire, pulling himself out just as his orgasm shook his entire body, stroking himself through it all.

He crashed himself next to Dean, shoulder to shoulder, and watching him, exhausted. Dean looked over at him, and Castiel found himself getting lost in a field of green, speckled with gold traces of sunlight. "Someone like you?" Dean began, "I wouldn't expect you to get tired so easily." Castiel returned the smile that Dean gave him with a light chuckle. Rolling over, he tangled his legs with Dean's, kissing the smile off of his face. He pulled himself on top of Dean, carding his fingers through his messy hair. Something swelled within his chest, unable to release the feeling as laughter bubbled through him. The sound came as he parted from Dean's lips. Dean let his head fall backwards onto the floor, giving Castiel the chance to explore his neck with his lips. Dean grinned, and his laughter echoed throughout the dungeon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then:  
> As Dean, Castiel, and Gabriel are leaving Dean's home of Las Vegas, they are ambushed by an unknown group at a gas station. Upon returning home safely, they discover that one of their friends were less fortunate.

 

By the third week spent at the Bunker, Dean was beginning to feel more at home. There hadn't been any upset within the little makeshift family Cas called his own, and which was beginning to accept Dean as well. But that didn't stop him from constantly checking his phone, vibrating at least ten to twenty times a day, and all from the same number.

 

SAM: Dean, where are you? 8:37pm  
SAM: Are you OK? 8:53 pm  
SAM: Dean come on 9:01 pm

 

He couldn't text him back. He'd get back to Sam eventually, but now, he just couldn't betray Cas like that. Dean glanced over the back of the chair he was sitting at, past all the near empty bookshelves and to the kitchen. Cas was leaning against the counter, speaking with Gabe with a concentrated look on his face. His hair was still a mess from earlier this morning, despite it being late evening, his white button down giving him a disheveled appearance with the first two buttons undone. Cas looked away from Gabriel, his attention returning once he had his second or third bottle of Dr. Pepper pressed to his lips. Dean couldn't remember when he'd started smiling at the sight.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't betray him like that. And now that he knew that someone was after them, most likely tracking them down with every device he and Cas' group owned, he couldn't betray his own brother either.

Besides, Sam had Jess, he should be fine. She'd practically taken care of him since they met nine years ago in junior high school. The memories alone could bring a stupid smile to Dean's face. He was sure that, if they'd met earlier, they'd be the little kindergarten couple that would bring each other pretty rocks they'd find on the playground and tell everyone "we're boyfriend and girlfriend!" Now Dean wasn't even sure he'd make it to Sam's wedding.

Footsteps came from the kitchen area and before Dean could even turn around, a set of arms were being draped over his shoulders. "Surprise," a deep voice hummed into his ear. Dean couldn't suppress his chuckle as he leaned into the touch, pressing his and Cas' faces together.  
"Hey there," he said, smiling. Castiel returned the expression, placing a kiss just by Dean's eye.  
"Thank you for waiting on me," Cas said. "What are we watching?" Dean hummed, stretching out and playfully looping his hands behind Cas' neck.  
"Dunno," he said, "it's your pick tonight." Castiel gave a mischievous smile, confusing the hell out of Dean. He let go of Dean's embrace, traveling over to the television and kneeling down near the DVD player. "Just don't make it another horror movie, I still can't get Silent Hill out of my head." Cas shot back a look at him.  
"Silent Hill wasn't scary," he said.  
"Wanna fucking bet?" Castiel smiled. "No Resident Evil either."  
"The video games were better."  
"Did you play them?" Dean asked. Cas shook his head.  
"No, I watched them." He responded.  
"Where the fuck do you go to watch a video game?" Cas rolled his eyes teasingly.  
"There's more on YouTube than porn and cats, you know."  
"Oh come on," Dean said, "you don't mean YouTubers, do you?"  
"Shut the hell up, Dean. They're entertaining." Dean hummed with a smug look on his face.  
"Are they?" He said sarcastically. Cas turned back to look at him again.  
"Would you like to sleep on the couch tonight?" Dean rolled his eyes.  
"Fine, fine, just get the movie in, won't you?"

~~~

He wouldn't agree to this. Not a chance. He'd been waiting for weeks just to return home, and he knew it was his own fault for his brother's struggles. But that didn't prevent him from entering the kitchen where Gabriel stood leaning against the counter, no doubt scrolling through pointless internet humour. He barely looked away from the screen for a second when Castiel entered the room. "Gabriel? Could I ask you a favour?" His brother shut off the screen, placing it on the countertop.  
"Yeah? What's up, Cassie?" Castiel placed his finger over his lips, signalling him to lower his voice. "Gotcha. What's up?" Castiel glanced into the living room. Dean was sitting back on the couch, his phone illuminated but he was unable to read it from this distance.  
"I need you to look after Dean's family while he's here." Gabriel slouched, putting one hand in his pocket and the other brushing back his bangs in between his fingers.  
"Cassie..." He sighed. He'd predicted this reaction already.  
"Yes, I know, but it's necessary, Gabriel." He looked back into the living room. Dean was still reading something on his phone. "He mustn't feel as though he is being held captive here. I can't..." He just couldn't help himself from catching glances into the next room. "If he knows that is brother is safe, then he will feel safer as well. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Gabriel only stared at him. There was a tense, unsure feeling about him. It soon all passed with a sigh.  
"Alright, alright, Cas, I'll do it. But you owe me." He said. Castiel gave a small smile in satisfaction.  
"Anything you want." He began to walk away towards the living room before he stopped. "But you can't interact with him."  
"Gotcha Cassie," Gabriel had returned to his phone as he spoke.  
"I mean it. That means no flirting with the target." Gabriel rolled his eyes dramatically.  
"I hear you, I hear you."  
"I will tell Kali, Gabriel."  
"She's not actually my girlfriend! Jesus-" Castiel smiled smugly, turning away from his brother.

Dean still sat on the couch, his phone now away. He started striding over to where he sat, going on to throw his arms over Dean's shoulder.  
"Surprise," he said into Dean's ear. The man below him smiled.

 

~~~

 

"I can't believe you made me sit through that a second time."  
"Dean, stop complaining."  
"In three weeks!"  
"I could have made it four, you know my impulses."  
"Ok, but," Dean turned to face him after opening the bedroom door, "Tangled? Really?" Castiel crossed his arms, leaving against the door frame with that grumpy look on his face.  
"It's a good movie, you ass." Dean smiled, crossing his arms as well.  
"Ass- what?" Cas rolled his eyes.  
"No, Dean-"  
"Say it!"  
"Dean, it was one ti-"  
"Ass- what?" Cas looked away from him , irritation obvious though his expression. He mumbled something under his breath. Dean knew what it was, but pushed further. "What was that?" If looks could kill, there wouldn't be anything left of Dean to prove.  
"One time, Dean, I was drunk-"  
"Just say it and I'll leave it." Castiel stood back up straight, looking as though he were ready to rip Dean's esophagus from his throat and then shove it right back down again. Upside down.  
"Ass-butt." Cas said angrily. Dean just beamed at him.  
"Thank you," Dean said, still smiling brightly. He turned to start making the bed. "But one more time, I wanna record it this-" Cas took a step towards him, and he dropped it. He didn't stop smiling, though.  
"I'm going to take a shower," Cas said, dropping the angry act. "If you want anything tonight, I'd say knock it off."  
"You love me and you know it!" Dean shouted as Cas walked away.  
"I'd sell your soul to Satan just to shove it up your ass." Dean was pretty sure his laughter could be heard down the halls if Cas hadn't shut the door behind him.

Dean turned back around, checking the bed for what needed done. Cas' room wasn't that big, a fact which he had to deal with every night. It barely gave him the room he needed to make his way around the bed comfortably to set the sheets. Dean got down on his knees near the end of the bed, tucking the thin blankets in under the mattress. Cas wouldn't be back until he was done with his shower, so he still had plenty of time to finish the task.

He'd just finished with the side of the bed facing the more open area of the room, making his way around the end to the side closest to the wall. Getting down on his knees, he tried damn well not to feel claustrophobic in the right space, focusing on his hands as they fixed the sheets on and under the mattress. Dean moved his feet back to stand, hearing a loud crack and wincing as his boot kicked against the wall. "Shit!" He said under his breath. He turned, sitting back on the bed to observe the damage. There was no hole where his foot kicked in the wall, but instead, a small square door hung in the thin wall, dry dust falling from inside. He stopped, staring at the door, completely lost in thought, though it was mostly just "what the fuck?"

Dean fell back to his knees, examining the new door swinging slightly in the wall. He pushed it back further, lowering himself to examine further behind it. He couldn't see but a few inches of light on the floor before the area completely disappeared into darkness. Dean sat back upright, turning then to the bedside table, opening it's drawer in search for a flashlight. Once retrieving it, it proved to only give off a dim light, but it would be sufficient. Again, Dean knelt down to the entrance way, easily entering the shoulder width gap.

He choked on the dust that fell from the ceiling, barely being three feet above his head as he sat crouched in the room. The flashlight flickered on, revealing the room to be only a few feet more spacious than he thought. The interior walls were faded, the wallpaper rotting away from age, practically flaking off under the light touch of his fingertips.

Something soft sat below his knee as Dean moved forward, stopping and aiming the flashlight around. The light landed on the plush animal as he moved his knee away from it. A light coating of dust covered it's material as he held it in his hand, the patched up bunny lying limp across his fingers. The flashlight flickered as he turned it in his hands, brows furrowed in concentration. A black thread hung loose from a stitching in the back of the bunny, clearly spelling out the word "CAS" in poor hand work.

Dean set the stuffed bunny back where he found it on the floor and scanned the rest with his flashlight, practically crawling over to the corner of the tiny room. In said corner was a folded, white piece of clothing, which appeared to have lost its luster over the years. On top was a small, rectangular device. Dean held it in his hands, trying to read the print written on the tape overlaying it, but found it indecipherable. He decided to place it in his pocket for now, then turned his attention back to the corner where the clothing still lied. Carefully, Dean unfolded it in his hands, afraid to ruin the garment that was who knows how old. The thin material, once unfolded, had short sleeves and a light, flowing skirt, all in a basic white. It was just big enough to fit a child. Dean didn't even try to suppress his smile after his dawning realization.

He decided to leave it as it was, folding it gently into a neat single pile, leaving it in the corner and going back for his flashlight. There was nothing else lying on the floor, after one last check. Dean turned back to the furthest wall near the dress, aiming its light at the worn wallpaper, hardly enough left to even call it so. The walls were scratched and discolored, pencil marks and nonsense drawings all around the small area. Looking closer, something more explicit appeared in Dean's vision:

"I'm sorry"

 

It was small, and written in perfect, neat handwriting just in Dean's line of view. He leaned in closer, staring at it. It almost felt as though the room became smaller, the air more dense than it was before. A chill ran down his spine as he moved away from it, instead searching the rest of the wall with his flashlight. He held his breath as the light targeted upwards.

I'm sorry

To the left.

I'm sorry

Right.

I'm sorry

It was all written in the most precise handwriting, every phrase repeated randomly and dispersed along the back wall. Dean backed up, trying to see the rest.

I'm sorry

     I'm sorry

I'm sorry         I'm sorry

  I'm sorry

The more he searched, it seemed as though the writing became more rushed.

 

Curiosity made him search the next wall to his left. The atmosphere seemed to spike all around him, leaving him anxious though he couldn't figure why. The light flickered from the flashlight.

I'm sorry       I'm sorry  
          I'm sorry I'm sorry  
   I'm sorry     I'm sorry     I'm sorry  
       I'm sorry

 

The wall to his right was only worse. Uncertainty flooded him. For some reason, he felt guilt.

I'm sorry             I'M SORRY  
          I'm sorry  
I'm sorry       I'm sorry

   I'M SORRY          I'm sorry

 

Finally, Dean had had enough. It felt as though the words were speaking to him on their own, himself too frozen from the sudden overwhelming emotions built up within the room. He should never had come here. Something was wrong about this room, something he just couldn't pinpoint. He couldn't even breathe properly.

He turned back to the door, wanting to leave this tiny, claustrophobic hell hole and never even speak the name again. His flashlight caught the wall he turned to, and Dean nearly fell back to the wall opposite. His eyes widened, staring in front of him.

 

     I'M SORRY        I'M SORRY.   I'M SORRY I'M SORRY  
               I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY  
       I'M SORRY      I'M SORRY I'M SORRY    I'M SORRY  
I'M SORRY.     I'M SORRY       I'M SORRY  
   I'M SORRY.     I'M SORRY I'M SORRYI'M SORRY

      I'MSORRYI'M SORRYI'MSORRYI'M   SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY    I'M SORRYI'M  SORRY I'M SORRY  
           I'M SORRY I'M SORRYI'M SORRY I'M SORRY

                                  I'M SORRY

 

 

 

 

Dean didn't think he'd run away so quickly from anything in his life.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then:  
> Just as Dean is starting to feel more at home in the Bunker, he learns more about Castiel's darker past.

There's the faint sound of static in the background. Crackling as the recorder is set onto a flat surface. It's the first recording on the device. A man, a psychiatrist, begins to speak.

"Hello! How are you?" He asks. There's a faint noise in the background, as though someone were sitting down.  
"I'm okay." A young boy answers. His voice is just beginning to develop.  
"That's great!" He exclaims. " Now my name is Dr. Moore. What's your name?" The static grows more present in the background. He doesn't respond.

"How are you today?" He asks. He sounds aged, but comforting in the way most elderly people's voices are. There is no response. "How are your exercises holding up for you?" The psychiatrist asks.  
"Fine." The boy says. It almost sounds forced.  
"That's good news!" The man sounds pleased. "Are they helping you any?" No verbal response, but the man translates his gesture. "No?"  
"No." The boy says firmly. There's a tense silence through the recording.  
"Have you been speaking to your family at all?" A silence goes on for a few seconds. "And why not?"  
"They won't listen. They never do." The psychiatrist gives a comforting chuckle.  
"But they're the ones who wanted you better?"

A crash is heard through the recorder.

"THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!"

 

 

~~~

 

 

"Hello, Castiel!" It's the psychiatrist again. "How are you this morning?"  
"I'm fine." He sounds more relaxed today.  
"Your brother says you're feeling better since our last session."  
"My brother's too busy drinking. What makes you think he has anything credible to say?" There's a silence. Dr. Moore is almost stunned.  
"Well, oh my. I apologize-"  
"It's fine." Castiel seems to force him into silence. There's tension seeping through the recorder.  
"It's good to see you're speaking again." Almost as if to resist him, Castiel doesn't speak. "So, how are your exercises working for you?"  
"They're not."  
"Do you feel as though you need another method?"  
"Yes," Castiel answers, "I believe it's called cutting off these fucking sessions."  
The recorder is forcefully powered off.

 

 

~~~

 

 

"Good morning, Castiel." Dr. Moore seems to have already lost his excitement with the young teen. "How are you today?"  
"I'm not okay. Seeing as that's the answer you've been really wanting for the last three weeks." There's a sigh.  
"Castiel, I want to make you better. Now what is the issue?" There's a long silence. He's waiting persistently for an answer. Finally, a quiet voice enters the recording.  
"I can't sleep."  
"And how long has this been going on?"  
"Four days."  
"You haven't slept at all for that long?" There's another silence, presumably filled with a nod from Castiel. "Well, I'm going to prescribe you with medication so you-"  
"Not a good idea." His voice is soft, sorrowful. Another silence.  
"Oh..."

 

 

~~~

 

 

"Hello, Castiel," Dr. Moore greets. The sound of rummaging, possibly through a drawer, is heard through the recording.  
"He won't leave me alone." The rummaging stops. Castiel's voice is further away this time, as though he hadn't even moved to sit down.  
"Who won't leave you alone?" The psychiatrist asks.  
"Shut off the recorder."

 

 

~~~

 

 

When the next recording plays, there's nothing but the sound of sobbing. It's faint, but clearly heard.

"He won't leave me alone."

 

 

~~~

 

 

A loud crash is picked up in the recording. "FUCK YOU!" Another crash. "FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCKYOU!" The third crash is aimed near the recorder, and it's heard crashing to the floor. "I HATE YOU! WHY WON'T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND THAT?! WE DON'T WANT YOUR HELP!"

Another crash. The sound cuts off.

 

 

~~~

 

 

"I'M SORRY!"  
"Castiel, I'm not going to hurt you-"  
"PUT IT DOWN!"  
"I don't have-"  
"PLEASE, JUST PUT IT DOWN!"  
"Castiel, you have to listen to me! I don't have anyth-" A loud scream echoes through the room.  
"PLEASE JUST LET ME GO!"  
"I'm not going to harm you! You're safe here!"  
"GET HIM AWAY FROM ME! YOU'RE KILLING ME!"  
There's an immense bang in the background.  
"LUKE!" The name echoes around the room. "LUCIFER! PLEASE! HELP ME!"

 

 

~~~

 

 

"So, his name was Luke?" Dr. Moore asks. There's a silence. "Were you close?"  
"Yes." Castiel's voice sounds more matured.  
"Why did you call him Lucifer?" He asks.  
"That's just what we called him."  
"Was it a type of nickname?"  
"Yes."  
"Do you miss him?" There's another moment of quiet.  
"No," Castiel says firmly, "I just think he misses me." No one speaks. "Isn't that right, Luke?"

 

 

~~~

 

 

"Where is he, at the moment?"  
"You don't see him?"  
"No, I can't."  
"But he's right behind you?" There's a faint sound of a chair creaking, as though the psychiatrist is turning around.  
"I'm sorry, Castiel, but I can't see him."  
"He doesn't like you very much."  
"And why not?"  
"I don't think he likes anyone, really," Castiel says, "especially me."  
"Why do you say that?" Castiel doesn't respond for a moment.  
"I'm not allowed to answer that."  
"Can I ask why not?" Again, there's no response for only a few seconds. Just long enough to listen to a statement.

 

 

"He says 'if I ask, he's going to kill you.'"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then: Dean finds an old tape recorder on the floors of a hidden room in Castiel's wall. Curious, he plays it, and is horrified at the conversations held within it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late posting, I've been really preoccupied lately and on some major writer's block.

"No, Dean, we don't need milk."  
"You sure? We've got like four people to shop for."  
"Five."  
"Five, right."

 

Even after nearly four months of living with Cas, he still forgets to include himself. Dean closed the refrigerator door for the milk and continued going down the aisle, pushing the cart ahead as he did so. "What else do we need?" He asked, turning back to look at Cas. The man almost looked like a normal person, compared to what "normal" standards were. Faded AC/DC baggy blue jeans, and what might be about twenty dollar tennis shoes, Cas barely caught a single suspicious eye.

 

Cas looked down at their small, crumpled paper of a list, squinting his eyes in attempt to read Dean's poor handwriting. "The next thing is bread," he said. Dean looked up at the signs above the aisles listing the contents, searching for the bread aisle... on the other side of the store. Dean tipped his head back with a groan.  
"Come ON," He complained. A woman ahead of him looked away from the yogurt options to stare in his direction. Dean only rolled his eyes, pushing the cart ahead with Cas on his tail.

 

When no one was looking, Dean hitched a foot on the bottom shelf of the grocery cart, kicking ahead and riding the cart for leisure down the aisle. Checking behind him, Cas kept at his normal pace, but with a smile and a roll of his eyes.

 

Cas had finally caught up some few moments after Dean had parked the cart in the center of the bread aisle, striding nonchalantly after him while shaking his head. "I cannot believe you," he said.  
"Believe it, baby," Dean said, his cockiness flashing through his smile. Cas rolled his eyes, and pulled the list back out of his jeans pocket.  
"Come on, let's just finish this up." Dean checked back to the loaves of bread on the shelf.  
"What kind do you wanna get?" He asked. Looking back in Cas' direction, he stopped. He locked eyes with a dark haired woman behind the man, who immediately looked away, but not as if it were in a haste. She just went back to twirling her hair around her finger and shifting her weight from foot to foot. Dean looked back to Cas, who continued looking through bread prices. The attractive woman glanced back, but not at him. She was biting her lip, blinking through long lashes, but still not at him. Dean took a step closer to Cas, and the man looked up at him in confusion.  
"I'm not sure, I think we should just stick to white bread, just keep it simp-" Dean glanced back at him to find why he had interrupted himself, and was startled at the situation.  
"Hi," the woman said, still twirling her hair. She had shrunken her appearance, making her seem smaller, more attractive. It irked Dean without end.  
"Hello," Cas said, seemingly thrown off. The dark haired woman bit her lip again.  
"I was wondering if you could help me with something?" She asked. Even her voice was light, flirty even. Dean couldn't take his eyes off of her, watching her every move with annoyance.  
"Um, yes, I suppose I could, um-" Cas stumbled.  
"Chastity," she filled in.  
"Yes, I- what do you need help with?" Cas asked. Chastity shifted her weight, and it seemed she had exposed what was under her low cut shirt a bit more since Dean had looked away. Jesus fucking Christ, that just confirmed it. He took another step towards Cas, resting a hand on his back, causing them to be shoulder to shoulder. He swore he felt Cas lean into the touch, the tension in his shoulders dropping. The woman knocked off the flirty attitude, almost seemingly disappointed. Castiel tilted his head, confused at her suspicious act.  
"I uh, never mind, I found it." Chastity smiled awkwardly, walking around the two of them and down to the end of the aisle. She didn't cast either of them another glance, and the two went on with their decision.

 

Once the woman had left the aisle and their line of vision, Castiel shot Dean a look, one he did not like. "What?" Dean asked. Cas looked away, shaking his head in disbelief.  
"Did you really think I would accept her offer?" Cas asked him, still not looking.  
"What do you-"  
"Dean, don't play coy. I knew what she was doing, I knew from the moment she entered my sight." Dean began wondering if stupidity could be an emotion from the sudden regret he felt run through him.  
"Cas, I'm sorry, I just-" he stopped when a smug smile appeared on Cas' face. "What?" Cas took a step towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dean could practically feel sparks flying from under his touch.  
"You really shouldn't be so protective, you have no idea what it does to someone." He attempted a wink, something Dean noticed he had trouble doing without using his entire face. To him, it was fucking adorable.

 

~~~

 

It was just a flash of purple. A split second that caught his eye like it was all he could see. It was just purple, a deep, dark shade of violet, a combination of red and blue all put together onto a thin piece of material. Of course, this was all just jumbled thoughts Dean had put together to distract himself.

 

But it didn't stop at just the peek of satin Dean noticed when Cas had bent into the trunk of the Cadillac to reach for their groceries. Oh no, it never just stopped, because Dean's dirty fucking brain would never allow that. The black lace was stark against it, lining the waist of them and setting Dean on edge at just the sight.

 

As he tried to change his mind's train of thought into another direction, but nope, of fucking course it couldn't be that easy. Dean almost angrily reached into the trunk of the car, pulling out as many bags as possible, as heavy as possible, and trudged back into the Bunker. _Wonder what else he's wearing?_ Dean shook his head, shaking the thought out of his head with irritation. No, now's not the time. Not with the man in question literal feet away from him, traveling down the stairs with only three bags in his hands. Dean followed suit when he placed them on the table downstairs, Cas' eyes widening significantly at the sight of Dean's possible seven grocery bags hanging from his arms. "Would you like some help with that?" He asked almost sarcastically. Dean glanced over to him as he practically slammed the plastic grocery bags onto the table.  
"Nah, s'all good." Cas just tilted his head, but shook it off when he went back up the stairs to gather more groceries.

 

He returned with another gathering of bags after the sound of the trunk slamming, carrying them with ease down the stairs. Dean met him halfway to take half of his load, setting them down on the table with the others. Once Cas had his arms empty, he stretched them over his head, pulling his entire body with him. The AC/DC shirt he was wearing lifted just above his waistline, the loose jeans exposing that bit of black lace underneath his clothing. Cas didn't seem to notice Dean's attraction, his eyes unable to look away from the sight.

 

Now finished stretching out, Cas let his body slump back into his usual stance, then turning back to the groceries to put them away. Taking his chance, Dean cleared his throat, catching the disheveled man's attention. "Cas?" Castiel turned back from the refrigerator, tilting his head as he glanced at him.  
"Yes, Dean?" Dean only watched, almost awkwardly, at a loss for words. Shit, he was surprised he'd made it so far as to open his mouth in the first place.  
"Do you- uh..." he cut himself off. Cas must have noticed, for he closed the refrigerator and began to stride towards him.  
"Is something the matter, Dean?" He asked. He was only about two feet away from him now, and Dean couldn't help but admire the enchanting color of his eyes.  
"No, nothing's wrong, it's just... " Cas tilted his head again. "Do you always wear lingerie when you go out?" Wow, that actually wasn't too difficult. Why did he need to make such a big deal about it. Then, Cas smiled at him, almost smugly.  
"No, not always," he said, "I'm wearing a lot more than that." Fuck. There it was. Of course Dean was able to process shit like this in a mile a minute, so within seconds the images he really didn't need at the moment were flooding. At this point, he was at a loss for words, just watching Cas' stupid little smirk as he turned back to finish putting away his refrigerator groceries. "Why? Are you interested?" He asked the question so nonchalantly, it almost made Dean feel pissed. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? "Because we could always finish putting these away later." Dean just shook his head in disbelief, before cracking a smile and huffing a laugh.  
"Oh, just fuck it," he said, breaking from his trance. Cas closed the fridge door, the two meeting in the middle and Castiel grabbing Dean's shirt collar, leading him to the bedroom upstairs.

 

 

Dean shut the door behind him, and by the time he had locked it and turned around, Cas was already flopping onto the back of the bed, un-tying his shoe laces and tossing the footwear onto the floor. "Well? Are you just going to stand there?" Dean hadn't realized he'd been staring, just hanging by the door like an idiot. He came over to the bed, sinking his knees into the mattress as he hovered over Cas' still covered body. He just took the moment to watch over him as Cas' eyes lightened up underneath him.

 

Slowly, Dean reached a hand underneath Cas' shirt, feeling satin material and lace just below his ribcage. He pulled the t-shirt upwards across his chest, revealing the deep purple corset underneath, Dean's thumb resting just over the black lace. Castiel placed his hand over Dean's, rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb. He rested his other hand on Dean's shoulder, guiding him to hover closer to him. He gently moved Dean until he was lying next to him, hand still on his shoulder. The gap between them disappeared as their bodies moved closer together, lips moving in sync as they met. Dean released a happy moan, using his hands under Cas' shirt to trace the lines of lace on his corset. Cas' hands trailed away from Dean's shoulder and graced across his neck, fingers moving through his hair in a content motion. Dean became lost in the softness of Cas' lips, and how his tongue seemed to know exactly what to do to please him as his hardness increased in his jeans.

 

Dean hips moved slowly, bucking against Castiel in any attempt to feel the sweet friction between them. Cas' hand gripped slightly tighter in his hair and began moving against him, pressing his erection against Dean's thigh. His warm hand slipped under Dean's shirt, dragging the clothing over his body, Dean helping him pull it off of his chest. Tossing it aside, Cas went and slid his hand back onto Dean's lower back, moving further south until he was inside Dean's jeans, palming his ass as he slowly pulled his jeans down off of his legs. Soon they had slid off, leaving them with their hands all over each other as Dean snuck his fingers into the belt loops of Cas' borrowed jeans, tugging them downward. The waist of the clothing remained at his hips, Dean struggling to move them any further down his thighs. Whilst Dean groaned in frustration, Cas only covered his face with his hands as a muffled giggle came from behind them. "What the hell?" Dean said, exasperated. Cas contained his laughter the best he could, but his jagged breathing gave him away.  
"What did you expect?" He said, calming down but still not enough, "you gave me _your_ jeans."  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean said, finally tearing his attention away from the clothing.  
"I'm not exactly," he had to take a moment to steady his breathing. "Just, here, let me." Cas rolled out of the bed, much to Dean's disappointment, and began tugging the jeans off from his legs with frustration.  
"Are they really that tight?" Dean asked, "or are you just that thick?" Cas shot him a glare.  
"Shut up," he said.

 

Once he'd gotten the jeans off, he turned back onto the bed, hovering over Dean's body with his hands holding him up on the mattress. "You ready to get back to this?" Dean asked playfully. Instead of responding, Cas lowered himself and met Dean's lips, their movements releasing a moan from Dean. He bucked his hips up onto Cas, sliding his hands underneath his shirt and tossing it across the room and onto the floor once it was removed. All that was left were stretches of dark lace covering Cas' body, and Dean hadn't had the time to notice earlier the high thighs covering his legs. It made him feel so bare with only his boxers, despite Cas being more covered than he.

 

He rolled his hips once again against Castiel, his hardened erection up against Cas' thigh. He squirmed under Cas' touch, desperate for some type of raw friction between the two of them. "God, Cas, please," he moaned once he parted from Cas' lips.  
"Do you want something, Dean?" Castiel asked, his voice low and growling near his ear. "Because I can give you whatever you want. You just have to take it from me first."

 

Almost instinctively, Dean grabbed for Cas' hips and traced his fingers around the lace and satin covering them. At this point, there was no time for messing around. He separated skin from fabric with his hand in between the lingerie, grabbing at Cas' ass and holding him still on top of him as he straddled his lap, rocking back and forth over Dean's hardness. Dean released a moan each time, precome leaking into the fabric of his boxers.

 

Castiel leaned back down and pressed his mouth to Dean's neck, and he could feel his teeth against his skin as he slowly began sucking, leaving him feel hot under his tongue. Dean used the opportunity to press his fingers back into Cas' hole, slipping his hand under the panties as he reached blindly into the bedside drawer for the lube. He removed his other hand only for a second to apply the lubricant and immediately aimed his attention back to Cas. He felt his lips break from working on his neck as he pressed his finger back to his hole, a small gaps come from them instead. Castiel pushed back against it, Dean entering inside of his with ease. He teased him with another finger, pumping behind the satin despite the panties being impossibly tight against Cas' erection. Castiel made a broken sound as he continued pressing inside him, panting lightly against his jawline. Dean smiled in satisfaction at the beautifully pitiful sight. "Dean, please," he groaned quietly.  
"You wanna ride?" Dean asked, almost gently. He could feel as Cas nodded against the crook of his neck. "Then you're gonna have to get up." Cas obeyed almost instantly, holding himself up with hands on the mattress before he went to sit back on Dean's lap.

 

Slowly, Dean slipped the dark lingerie off of Castiel's waist, Cas supporting him once they came down off his legs. Dean guided him to settle down on his cock, the look of absolute bliss on Cas' face almost too much for Dean to handle. He began rocking back and forth, each time a look of concentration appearing on Cas' face. "Dean, I-" he said, panting. He moved rather forcefully against Dean's cock, and Dean tipped his head back against the pillow, unable to open his eyes as unadulterated pleasure was sent spiraling through him. Cas continued practically bouncing on top of him, and Dean was incapable of thought the more he rode down on his erection. Heat was flooding in his abdomen and he had to bite down on his lip in order to keep himself from moaning nonsense, but nonetheless it came through. The only sound he could make was Cas' name, over and over repeating without end. He had to grip onto Cas' garters as he was building on edge, the slick material of his lingerie slipping underneath his fingers. "Cas, Cas- I'm gonna-" Before he could finish his statement, Cas was bursting in his hand with a broken gasp. Just the sight of it shut Dean down, coming inside of Castiel with his eyes shut tight and barely able to breathe.

 

Cas was already sitting himself off of Dean's dick, rolling over onto the bed beside him. He threw an arm over Dean's chest before he even had time to calm down from his high. He was already half asleep despite it still being early in the afternoon, but let it take over him anyway. On the brink of unconsciousness, he could feel the heat of Cas' body leave him, returning moments later with a warm wetness on his bare chest, cleaning him off from Cas' stain he'd left there. He was soon pulled to sleep by the return of Castiel's body beside him, barely a single gap between them as they entangled their legs together under the comforter lied on top of them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then: Dean is finally rehabilitating Castiel into a more domesticated life.

He'd been counting the days since Dean had decided to stay with him. Every night he fell asleep with the mattress sinking beside him, every morning he awoke to green fields and golden skies watching over him just before he opened his eyes. "Hey there." Day one hundred and fifty seven he'd awoken to the soft voice.  
"Hello, Dean."

 

The one hundred and fifty seventh time Dean had left him alone in their bed, alone for Castiel to remain half asleep and catch up on the moments he'd lost, rolling over onto the warmer side of the bed to breathe in the scent of cheap whiskey and Old Spice.

 

The one hundred and fifty seventh time he'd awoken for the second time in the morning with the light footsteps coming from the doorway and a cup of coffee being set on the bedside table. Dean's fingers ran through his messy hair, and Castiel turned to his direction to lean into the touch. There was a feeling he couldn't explain that wafted through the atmosphere- something light, something that felt like sunshine inside his heavy chest.

The one hundred and fifty seventh time he had to make sure it was all real.

 

Dean was waiting for him at the kitchen table, his hair still an untouched mess when Castiel decided to go downstairs with his coffee. He slumped down into the chair adjacent to him, taking a drink from his cup. "Did you sleep alright?" Dean asked him. He asked the question every day, despite Castiel taking his medication on the daily now.  
"Yes, it was fine," he replied with a yawn. It didn't concern Dean at all at this point, knowing Castiel was never truly awake before his second to third cup of coffee. It was a limitation he truly despised.  
"Where's everyone else?" Dean asked, looking towards the doorway. Castiel looked in his direction as well.  
"They should be gone for a few days. I wouldn't be surprised if they were halfway across the country at this point." Dean looked back at him.  
"Why's that?"  
"There's another case," he answered without hesitation, "another murder, back in Nevada, near the border to California."  
"How do you know all that?" Castiel turned back to Dean, tired of staring towards the door.  
"We have our sources." Dean didn't bother to press further. The answer was always the same.

 

~~~

 

He turned around for five minutes. Only five. He was just so preoccupied with the pan in front of him that he didn't notice. Although it wasn't until he'd turned around with the plate set and in his hands that he caught the sight. His head was on the table, covered by his arm supporting him as a pillow, past dozing off with a half full cup if coffee beside him. Seeing Cas all sleepy and messy and being absolutely adorable, to him, it was the most precious thing in the world.

Cas' head shot up in alarm when the sound of a plate was placed in front of him. Dean pulled out a chair adjacent to Cas on the table, shaking a can of whipped cream in his hand and dispersed it on top of the stack of pancakes in front of him. Cas looked up at him, smiling shyly. "Dean, you didn't have to-"  
"Yes, I did," Dean cut him off. He placed his thumb under Cas' lips and opened his mouth, followed by him spraying the whipped cream on his tongue, watching Cas smile gratefully. He cut a part of Cas' pancakes his his fork, picked up the small bit with the tongs, and placed it in Cas' open mouth.

"Ew, gross," a voice said from the doorway. The two broke instantly, eyes directed towards the sound of the voice.  
"Privacy, Meg?" Cas said.  
"Never heard of it," Meg replied with a shrug of her shoulders. Cas rolled his eyes but continued eating as Meg dropped her duffel bag near the doorway.  
"Please tell me there's not a body in there," Dean said, almost sounding exasperated.  
"Why? Afraid you're gonna get kinky?" Meg said, giving a wink. She laughed at Dean's look of disgust. "Don't worry 'bout it, there's nothing in there. Yet."  
"I thought you'd left by now?" Cas asked her. Meg shook her head.  
"Nah, Balthy's loading up the car. We'll be leaving soon."  
"Which one?" Cas said sarcastically. Meg shrugged her shoulders.  
"Dunno. Depends on how I'm feeling. And whoever's stupid enough to leave off the alarm." With that, Meg grabbed her duffel bag, slung it over her shoulder, and headed past the door, but not before grabbing a small bag of food from the refrigerator.

She'd be gone for the rest of the day.

 

~~~

 

The phone was ringing. _Again_. Fifth time the number called, in fact. Castiel couldn't help but glare at it each time it did. He knew exactly who it was, but answering the calls had consequences. He'd have to have a talk with Dean later. For now, his brother's calls would sound through the air with no response.

 

"Hey, look who it is! Cassie's still kickin'!" Castiel rolled his eyes despite the fact that his brother couldn't see it.  
"Hello, Gabriel. How's Sam?" There was the sound of wind crackling through the speaker.  
"He's still doin' pretty hot. Worried as shit though. I've seen him pace past this window for at least twenty, twenty five minutes now."  
"Explains the calls," Castiel said, glancing at the now silent cell phone setting in the other room.  
"He been calling your boyfriend?" Gabriel asked, still acting playful despite his now somber tone.  
"Apparently," Castiel sighed, " for the same span as you mentioned. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?"  
"No sight of em'. Just a lot of hookers and traffic jam. Not a good combo, by the way. Lots a fun, though."  
"Of course it is," Castiel said, rolling his eyes once again.  
"I have noticed that he's been drinking lately. Like, a _lot_. No doubt from Dean-o's collection. How's he been doing, by the way?"  
"Dean is fine, Gabriel." Castiel returned to the living room, slumping down on the sofa with the phone still up against his ear. "It's nice to settle down after so long. It's a blessing."  
"Yeah, well you just enjoy your break while you have it. We've still got work to do, and I can't keep watching over Sammy here."  
"I understand," Castiel said, almost reluctantly. There's a sigh on the other end, nearly inaudible with the breeze blowing past the speakers.  
"We can't have a normal life. You know that more than anyone, Cassie." A feeling almost like sorrow, of loss, fills his chest and he falls further into the cushions of the furniture.  
"I know, "he said quietly, "good luck, Gabriel." Gabriel says his parting, and the line goes dead.

Castiel ends the call, setting the phone on the end table before rubbing a hand over this face. There's day old stubble scratching over the press of the fingertips. He felt completely disheveled in his rumpled clothing despite having showered less than three hours ago.

The clock on the wall read 7:58 pm. With his family gone and still out on the road, it was just himself and Dean, who was upstairs taking his evening shower. Castiel flicked through the television guide in search for something to dull the passing of time, but finding nothing of his interests.

 

Less than ten minutes later could hear the shower water being shut off from upstairs, and being bored by the television he turned it off and left the living room. Dean was just opening the door with a towel around his waist when Castiel reached the stairwell. He greeted him from above, hearing Castiel's footsteps creaking the steps. "It's a bit late to be dressing so nicely, isn't it?" Castiel asked. Dean stopped in his tracks, hand still messing in his hair.  
"How'd you know?" He asked. Castiel smiled in amusement.  
"I saw them on the bed earlier," he replied, "not everything is a deduction, Dean." Dean smiled in return.  
"Well if that's the case then why are you still dressed in clothes from yesterday?" Castiel looked down, now noticing his sweatpants and t-shirt from, as Dean said, the day before. "I thought you showered?"  
"I did. I didn't feel the need to change."  
"Gross." Castiel rolled his eyes, but they were bright with amusement.  
"What do you have planned?" Castiel asked. Dean was closing their bedroom door.  
"Figure it out, genius," he shouted down the hallway.  
"Maybe I don't want to!" He called back. Dean didn't respond, now too busy dressing himself. Castiel just turned back with a grin on his face, for once shutting down all possibilities for what Dean had planned. Dean actually setting something up? Something that required to actually leave the building? Castiel actually _wanted_ to be surprised.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then: With Castiel now a bit more settled down into the domesticated life, Dean offers to take him out as a surprise.

Dean ran a hand down from the shoulder of his suit, releasing a sigh to the mirror. "Should've checked the size," he grumbled under his breath. The suit was just a bit too tight in the shoulders, straining his back just enough to be an annoyance but not enough to be too big of an issue. Hell, he'd been through worse; he could deal.

 

He was too busy fidgeting with the button on the cuff to notice the new reflection in the mirror. An arm slipped around his waist, and he had just the time to see the dark hair rub against his neck and the head rest on his shoulder. "I think you look just fine," Cas said, curling around his back to wrap the other arm around his torso.  
"Of course you would," Dean said with a smile. He turned around in Cas' hold, leaning back against the wall next to the mirror. "You look amazing," he stated. Dressed in his tan trench coat and actually wearing honest to god _color_ , it was a change Dean didn't think he'd live to see. Cas just shook his head against his collarbone.  
"I couldn't get my hair to lie down." Judging by the stray strands of hair that stuck up and tickled Dean's jawline, it was obvious he couldn't.  
"Don't even try to, the sex hair looks great on you."  
"You'd think so."

 

A measured ringing struck through the air during their teasing, causing them to pause and glare at the bed simultaneously. "I'm sorry, I have to-"  
"No, it's alright," Dean said, interrupting him. Cas gave an apologetic look. "Seriously! Take the call, it's fine." The expression didn't leave his face even as Cas went and picked up the cell phone, holding it upwards and answering his call.  
"Hello?" Unidentifiable words came through the other end, from what Dean could hear. All he could manage to hear was frantic rambling. Cas pressed the phone closer to his ear, frowning. "I'm sorry, you- you're breaking up, I can barely- Gabriel, calm down, please, just calm down."  
"Is he alright?" Castiel ignored him, instead listening intently to his brother over the phone. His eyes widened as Gabriel spoke.  
"Are you ok?" He asked hurriedly, "what about-" his eyes flickered over to Dean, and when Gabriel's voice came through the other end, he sighed in relief. "Alright, alright, just... just get out of there. Now." His voice was stern as he spoke, and his expression visibly hardened. "Where are you, as of now?" He asked a moment later. He nodded, and a few seconds later he had broke from his stance and hurried to the bedside table, pulling out the drawer and tearing out a pen and pad of paper. He held the cap of the pen in his mouth as he scribbled down words that Dean couldn't decipher from his distance. "Ok, I've got it. Be safe, I'm coming." He ended the call there.

 

When he turned back to Dean, his eyes were full of concern. "We're going to have to reschedule," Cas said.  
"Why, what's wrong?" Castiel shook his head as he turned away, stashing the phone in his pocket along with the crumpled note. "Cas. Come on, you gotta tell me." With a sigh, Cas turned back around to face him.  
"My brother, Gabriel. He's in trouble. He-" he looked away for a moment, turning back to the bed and sorting out what to place in his bags, "I sent him to watch over your brother. I knew that you would be worried and I was afraid something may happen to him as well." Dean looked at him, disbelieving. "And it appears that he's been found."  
"You put Sammy in danger?!"  
"I didn't do shit, Dean!" Cas snapped, turning on his heels to face him angrily. "What I did, I did to protect your brother, and you! And I will not stand here in a moment of crisis and endure your blame when I had no control of the outcome! What I did- I did it, all of it, for you." He took a step closer, and their was barely six inches between their faces. "I pulled you out of the hell that had broken loose. I can throw you right back in." Dean took a step back, swallowing down the lump in his throat. His eyes averted from Castiel's.  
"Ok. Ok, I get it." He quickly pulled the tie off from around his neck, tossing it onto the mattress as he unbuttoned his tight suit jacket. Dean got down onto his knees and reached his hands under the bed, feeling for a case and pulling it out into open view. "What are we gonna need, Cas?" He asked. He caught a glance of the man shaking his head.  
"Dean, no. You're not coming." He said firmly. Dean rose to his feet.  
"Excuse me, what?"  
"I'm not letting you. This is my mess, I- I need to do this on my own."  
"This is my brother's safety we're putting at risk, Cas!"  
"Mine as well!" Cas took a step forward as he shouted. "Do you really believe that you're the only one with family attachments? Dean- my entire family is dead! All I have left is Gabriel, Balthazar, and Lu-" he stopped, tripping over his own words. "Gabriel and Balthazar." He stated firmly, leaving it at that. Dean stood, staring blankly, in stunned silence. His eyes drifted over to the wall next to the bed before snapping back to Cas. The memories of that room haunted him at the very thought.  
"I'm sorry..." he said, barely a whisper. Castiel's eyes were hard, never leaving his, and his expression went cold and sharp.  
"We have no room for apologies," was all that Cas had said. He looked away from Dean's gaze and sighed. "You're so god damn stubborn." He turned away, back to floor where Dean had pulled out the metal case. The click of the combination lock filled the silence that was heavy in the air, and Castiel finally unlocked it. He sorted through the multiple weapons that were held inside, tossing some onto the bed before handling a small handgun, then handing it towards the man standing next to him. Dean weighed the silver weapon in his hand, huffing a laugh.  
".44 Magnum? How many of these do you got?" He asked with a grin.  
"Enough." He placed a miniature cardboard box of bullets in his hand along with the gun.  
"What the hell are we getting ourselves into, Cas?" Castiel stopped, his fingers frozen with another weapon in his hold. Slowly, he met his gaze, and his deep blue eyes widened.  
"I don't know."

 

 

~~~

 

 

The car was pulled out of the garage with no hesitation. Cas' gloved hands held a vice grip onto the steering wheel, a cold, hard look in his determined eyes as he picked up speed down the road. Dean kept his eyes to the passenger widow of the Cadillac, watching as the scenery outside of them rushed past in a blur. His fingers drummed along the window, finding the lack of noise around him disturbing. Neither of them said a word, with only their inner thoughts to occupy them.

In the pocket of his jeans held the .44 given to him by Cas from before. His fingers slowly traced the shape of it in his pocket from the handle to the blunt end of it, still keeping his eyes on the window. Dean glanced over to Castiel from time to time, but each glimpse stayed the same as the last, with his stoic expression and the hard lining of his sharp jaw as his eyes never left the road ahead of them.

"Cas?" Dean said eventually, breaking the silence. Castiel didn't answer. He assumed he was too focused, unable to hear him. "Cas." He repeated himself. Cas blinked, glancing over to him for a second before returning his eyes to the road ahead of them.  
"What is it, Dean." It wasn't a question, it was a demand. His impatience practically hung in the air. Dean shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.  
"What if we don't make it in time?" He asked slowly. It was a question that had been on his mind for a while now, having nothing else to do in the silent car but think.  
"I try not to think about that." Castiel answered quietly, almost gritting through his teeth as he answered. Dean nodded, but still unsatisfied with his answer.

He couldn't even begin to imagine it. Dean and Castiel parking the car just outside Sam's apartment, running down the hall to the room he had spent the past month or so in with his only family left, only to find his brother slaughtered on the floor. He couldn't imagine the blood that'd still be pouring from his wounds, staining the white tiles underneath his lifeless body. He'd be carrying his head in his hands, Sam's long strands of hair becoming tangled in his hands.

How would Cas react, if his own brother would die in the same apartment? His face, would it remain stone cold as his eyes fell upon Gabriel, his brother's dead eyes staring back at him, or would he, for the first time that Dean would see, completely fall apart under the eyes of his family?

 

He looked to Cas.  
He didn't look back.

 

 

"Cas?"  
"Dean, I told you, I don't want to talk about it!" He had his eyes shut tight as he shouted, his grip stronger on the steering wheel. Dean stopped, taken aback, slumping down in his seat by a few inches. His eyes were casted out the window as he continued.  
"How did you find your family?" Dean asked quietly. Slowly, Castiel met his gaze, his eyes widened slightly to reveal his confused expression. Then came a laugh. It was quiet, almost unsettling with how low it growled in his throat. It was like day one again. Castiel shook his head, his eyes returning to the road. He was silent once again, letting it sink into the atmosphere they were trapped in.

 

"It started with Meg."

 

 

~~~

 

 

He slumped down in his seat, staring at the ceiling. The bright lights above him sent pain into his head, but he didn't care. In fact, he could almost laugh at it. Looking down now, he mentally traced designs in the flooring. Anything to keep occupied.

 

The girl next to him jolted awake as her name was called. Castiel glared at her for disturbing his concentration, but she didn't seem to notice. She hopped up, striding cheerfully along to the window across the room. The woman behind said window remained stone faced as usual behind her glasses, holding the prescription cup in her hand as the dark haired girl approached her. "Meg Masters?" Castiel heard the woman say. The girl, Meg, leaned against the counter, smiling as she watched the young woman.  
"Heya Naomi!" She said. Her voice was deeper and than he'd expected, and her words rolled off her tongue smoothly as though she were constantly seductive. "You able to slip a little somethin' in there today?" She gave a wink in Naomi's direction. Naomi, however, remained stoic as she shoved the medication rather forcefully towards Meg on the counter. Meg accepted them either way, and practically bounced back to her seat next to Castiel.  
"Hey, cheekbones is back to earth!" Castiel looked at her, perplexed. He hadn't recalled ever speaking to her before; he couldn't understand why she was acting as though she had spoken to him. He tilted his head as a sign of confusion.  
"Excuse me?" He said rather rudely. He was fully aware of his tone as well. Meg just downed her few pills.  
"You know, your face. It's nice." She said. Castiel's eyes widened. How could she be so blunt?  
"Please don't call me that," he said, hoping to cover his impolite response from before.  
"Alright- Cheekbones or Clarence, which one?" He was still take aback by the first few things she'd said, and she just kept piling it up on him. He decided not to respond, hoping she'd just go away eventually. The little amount of socialization he'd had in the past few minutes was already making him uncomfortable. "Clarence it is!" She piped. Castiel rolled his eyes and lifted his knees to his chest, curling up in the tiny chair and turning his back to her the best he could.

 

"Castiel Novak." Naomi called through the speakers. Castiel unraveled himself from his seat, walking towards the prescription counter. Meg called as he went by.  
"Hey, let me have what you don't want, k'?"

 

 

~~~

 

 

"Meg became my best friend since then." Cas said. "We spent every day together, every night. She'd sneak out of her room and sleep on my bed instead. There was nothing ever between us, well, except for pointless flirting from her side. We just greatly enjoyed each other's company."  
"You met at an institution?" Castiel nodded. "What about everyone else?" Dean asked. Cas nodded.

 

"Then there was my brother."

 

 

 

~~~

 

 

The iron made a long creaking sound as the bars swung outwards almost eerily if it weren't for the awkwardness that hung in the air. "Hey little bro!" Castiel's expression remained cold. His brother only laughed sheepishly, shrugging and leaning against the edge of his cell.  
"You're free to go." The officer said blankly, not actually looking at him. Castiel's brother winked, licking his teeth and pointing playfully in the officer's direction. Castiel smacked his hands down and marched forward, refusing to look back at his expression.

"Hey, what the hell man?"

He didn't respond to his older brother until they made their way to he car, where his hand hovered over the door handle. His long dark bangs flew around his face as he whipped around on his heels. "Gabriel, do you know how much it costed to bail you out?" He asked angrily. Gabriel only shrugged.  
"Dunno. Couple hundred?" He responded with an upbeat tone that set Castiel on edge. He chewed on his lip ring in frustration.  
"Dad can't afford to keep bailing you out! We're fucking broke, Gabriel!"  
"Why do you think I'm out there doing what I do?!" Gabriel shouted back, stepping forward till they were face to face. At the time, Gabriel had been at eye level to him.  
"If you keep running the cartel the way you do, we're gonna end up losing more than we gain."  
"It's not even mine- Balth's the one who runs it!"  
"Oh, because that's supposed to save your pride." Castiel rolled his eyes.  
"You're just a kid! You don't know shit!" Gabriel defended.  
"I'm fucking sixteen, Gabriel, and already I've learned too much about your shit work to know how it runs inside and out." Gabriel scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.  
"Why don't you, then?"

 

 

~~~

 

  
"And did you?"  
Castiel huffed what he supposed could be a laugh.  
"Yes. It lasted for about a week or two, actually." He smiled.

 

"Then there was Balthazar, who there isn't much to speak for. He was a regular druggie on the streets- left home after an argument with our father. He eventually went on to run the drug cartel with Gabriel. There's not much else to the story.

Crowley was the last of us to join. After our father had disappeared, Balthazar, Gabriel, and I were left on our own. Soon enough we learned that my brothers' cartel had actually come to some use. Crowley was a regular. Being and older man he soon became a sort of substitute after our father's absence. He agreed to take us in...if we did something for him in return."  
"Which was?" Dean asked. Castiel turned to face him.  
"It's led us to where we are now."  
"And...what about Meg? How'd she get caught up in the mess?" Cas smirked.  
"She was his niece." Dean chuckled and looked away.  
"So it's kinda like you were all just meant to find each other, huh?" Cas looked back at him, a fond look settling in his eyes.  
"Yeah, I suppose so."

 

They traded expressions for a moment, staring back at each other when suddenly a pang of fear struck Dean in the chest. "Cas WATCH OUT!" Castiel's eyes returned to the road just as a large dark semi pulled onto the intersection, swerving towards them at high speed. Castiel gripped his fingers around the steering wheel and pulled the car near the edge of the road, but the semi crashed into the Cadillac's side, sending it flipping into the ditch off the road.

 

Dean coughed violently as he attempted to move from the passenger seat, finding himself upside down along with the rest of the vehicle. The number of dents all around him seemed to cage him in, being unable to move. The shattered windows allowed the smoke from the hood to seep through, the fire burning through the engine and clouding his lungs. Beside him, Castiel didn't move.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING: this chapter has explicit horror, if you are sensitive or uncomfortable with graphic descriptions of gore, please skip to the next chapter. This part of the story isn't extremely necessary to the entire plot, so continuing on will not affect anything.***

_Allow me to tell you a story. Now, it isn't the most pleasant of stories, but by the time I am finished you'll think of it no less than you do the fond childhood fairytales told to you in the night._

_Let us begin._

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

  
It started with a young boy and his best friend. We'll call this friend "One." One was the best type of friend that anyone could ever ask for. It never left his side, for it was loyal. It always shared its tales, for it was generous. And it watched over the boy, for it was protective.

 

The boy didn't notice when One had changed. "You're bored. You need new friends," it told the boy one day, when they played on the swings at the park. One preferred to sit rather than swing.  
"No I don't," the boy told One, "I have you." One shook its head.  
"I have a friend. Its name is Two." Suddenly, there was another who came to play with the boy. The boy didn't object, only accepted his new friend and thought of it no less than One.

 

Two enjoyed the boy's comfort most of all, though it shied away from everyone else. The boy was concerned for Two, for it preferred to be alone, and only wanted the presence of the boy. "Could I stay with you so you don't feel lonely?" The boy asked Two one day. Two nodded almost eagerly, and clung to the boy's back so it could never be lonely again, keeping the boy with him in their isolated space.

 

When the boy became comfortable with One and Two, that's when Three came along. But Three was reluctant to be with the boy, almost resented him but could not leave him all the same. This made the boy frustrated, and more and more Three became angrier and angrier. Three grew hatred against the boy's family and friends, yelling and shouting and hissing in rage.

 

When the boy's loved ones grew tired of his friends, they left him alone, where Two would comfort him as Three grew restless. A friend named Four came shortly after that. The boy cried and cried in his room in the dark, unknowing of what was happening to him. Four didn't try to console him, only stood and watched over as the boy fell asleep with tears on his face.

 

As the years went on, the boy grew more accustomed to his friends. But as he did, he became tiresome. Day after day, night after restless night would leave him exhausted. On a rather lonesome day, One suggested that the boy go out and enjoy himself, and so he followed its advice. He drank away his sorrow, and swallowed down his anger. Night after night was the same. He drank, he drugged himself happy, and went to bed every night with a crash. One morning he'd awoken with sickness and a friend to support him, stroking down his back as he wailed for relief. "My name is Five," it said, "I'm here to help you." But within a blink, Five was gone, leaving the boy to expel what was left inside of him. For the next few days he still felt a buzz in his mind as a sickness stirred inside of him.

 

Though Five hadn't shown his face again, the sickness grew stronger, evicting fear in the boy's mind as he found his simple addictions growing stronger. That's when six came. Paranoia seemed to overtake even the simplest notions, clouding every judgement and every decision. Taking to isolation with Two, the boy sought release from his fears, hiding his face with his hands on the floor of his room, with Four to watch over him and provide his tears. Six still found its way to him in the end, and he accepted it just as he did the others.

 

When loneliness, rage, sadness, addiction, and fear overcame him, that's when Seven came. "I can take it all away, mute it out of your head," it promised him. Without a second thought, the boy agreed, eagerly even. Seven then watched over him as the days went on, like a guardian, taking away his pains one at a time. First went isolation, the next day anger, and the third went his tears. The fourth day took his instability, and the sixth took fears. By the next day, Seven was the only one left, leaving him without feeling, without insecurity. It left him empty.

 

Seven had promised him one thing. It would watch over the boy for the rest of his days, but even it began to hurt the boy. He'd lie in bed, watching the ceiling for hours, unable to even find motivation to roll over. And so Seven left him. Left him alone, vulnerable. This attracted the rest, crawling into his room and into his mind. With the personalities flooded him, it left the boy in indescribable pain, biting into his pillow as he screamed. Six clawed at his chest, Five, crawled into his mind and pounded at his skull, Four scratches out his eyes and left nothing but blood, Three burnt his skin to ashes, and Two pinned him to his bed, inflicting pain on his wrists. And as for One... One just watched. The boy watched back with broken, empty eyes. He stopped fighting back. He allowed the monsters to beat him, to overtake him. They broke him piece by piece, his mind hollowed for them to nest and his body empty for them to control.

 

He watched through their eyes as they swung a foot onto the floor, one step at a time. They outstretched his hand as they approached One, still standing, looking prideful even for his accomplishment. The boy was gone. Taken over by its kind. But before One could accept the hand given to him, the boy fought his way through his body and grabbed One by the neck. He smashed it into the wall, blood from its skull splattering across the paint, and it watched him with fearful eyes. The boy's other hand covered One's face, and within an instant he jerked and tore the head from the neck, throwing it forcefully onto the floor. His foot hovered over the severed head, and he slammed it down, crushing it and watching the remnants scatter on the floor.

 

He stepped back from the scene, breathing heavily as he stared at what he had done. His heart quickened its pace, almost unnaturally. His pulse pounded in his neck, and he placed his hand there just as he could feel his own skin tearing and splitting where his pulse once was. He rushed to the mirror, his heart nearly stopping at the sight; his neck ripped itself open in a slit where monstrous teeth grew in. A single, charred hand reached out from it, its long, skinny fingers clawing at his face. Suddenly the boy couldn't breathe as he began to choke heavily, falling to his hands and knees as he coughed up blood. Something was forcing up his throat, and he shut his eyes tightly to shield himself from the oncoming sight, but the pain and discomfort remained nonetheless.

 

When he opened his eyes once again, a six headed being was crawling across the floor on its multiple legs. It raised one of his heads once more to look at him, its bloody, hollowed eyes striking fear into him. It turned back, circling around One's lifeless body, then finding the opening of the neck where its head once was. It crawled into the body, leaving one of the heads in the opening, then, standing, it outstretched its arms- two tearing through the back, another two through the stomach, and the rest through the sides of the body. The head watched the boy, unable to move, staring back, petrified. The monster raced towards him, and boy could barely scream as he felt something force its way down his throat.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then: Just as they are about to depart, Castiel receives a call that turns their plans around. They're on the road in hopes of finding Gabriel, exploring Castiel's past along the way, when an accident with a larger vehicle sends them off their path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting in such short chapters, but I want to give as much content as I can without the readings having to wait so long.

"Cas...?"

  
"Cas...!"

 

  
"CAS!"

 

 

The ringing in his head overruled any other sounds around him. It pounded harshly in his head, shaking him awake in a cold sweat. His hand reached out and gripped the sheets beneath him as he shot up, a bitter metallic taste in his mouth. He shook in the bed as the bright world around him released its fog and cleared up in his vision. Over the sound of deafening ringing was a measured beeping, a monitor, next to the bed.

 

Pain ruptured through him in an instant, starting in his head with a sickness growing in his stomach. The room went blurry again and he curled in on himself in unbelievable terror. He tried to measure out his breathing, but the pounding in his ears made it impossible to do anything. His stomach twisted even more and the metallic taste grew stronger as he became paralyzed in his own sweat. Oh god, he was going to be sick. He unfolded and searched the room from the bed, but there was nothing in sight that he could expel into. Only a door that he could only assume led to a restroom. Immediately he pulled what appeared to be an IV from his arm as quickly but carefully as he could, swung his feet to the floor, but instantly regretting it as his vision blurred and the color faded around him. Nevertheless he stumbled blindly to the door across the room, choking on his own blood caught in his throat. Turning the knob, his entire body lost balance and slumped against the door just as he opened it, resulting with him crashing onto the cold floor beneath him. He clumsily returned to his feet and went for the nearest facility, holding both hands on either side of the toilet bowl as he released the contents of his stomach, tears building up in his eyes the entire time. The choking sounds from his vomiting were soon replaced by the choking of his crying, unable to control the tears falling from his face. What was wrong with him? Where was he? What had happened to him? The sickness inside of him didn't cease even after expelling himself of the contents in his stomach. He felt as though this is what death was like.

 

He wanted to return the bed in the other room, but he'd given all of his energy to the restroom that he currently used to rest on the floor. It was better than nothing. He just lied there, unable to gather enough strength to even trace the tiles on the floor. All he did was wait for unconsciousness to soon overcome him. Hopefully he'd awake afterwards and regain himself.

 

He could see the trail of blood left on the floor from before. The color of it faded between red and shades of black as his vision blurred. From behind him a scream could be heard, but he ignored it as he had no energy to turn to its direction. But still it didn't stop. He'd only assumed it to be the shrieks coming from the other patients- perhaps he'd made it back to the institute. Or maybe he never left.

 

He could barely cling on to his train of thought, fragments of words drifting off within his mind before he could even comprehend them. A few of them didn't even seem to be his own. He was unfeeling, allowing the words to fade in and out on their own. A few more distant cries came from what sounded like the rooms down the hall. He grabbed his hair in his fists, pulling at the short strands as he bit down on his lip. He still tasted blood in his mouth.

 

When he opened his eyes, the cold floor of the bathroom was no longer beneath him. Instead he could feel the uncomfortable mattress against his back and the stiff sheet lying on top of him. He took in a deep breath, staring at the blank ceiling, trying to recollect his thoughts. One thing was for certain: this was only moments later.

 

"Dean...?" He called out. His voice was hoarse and nearly inaudible. He watched the door across the room, but still no answer came. He raised a hand to reach for the door, and a flash of red caught his eye. Bringing his hand closer to his face, he squinted his eyes, focusing in on the deep scarlet blood drenching his fingertips. Sitting upright, a sharp pain ruptured through his chest and abdomen, and the blood continued flowing from where the pain originated. Castiel's body slammed back down flat onto the bed, his eyes still stuck on the ceiling, now dark instead of white. Everything seemed to fade as he slipped from consciousness.

 

 

A calm breeze floated by him, wafting through his hair as he closed his eyes. His feet swung beneath him, shifting the swing back and forth. They barely touched the ground below. Opening his eyes, the sound of shrieking children playing across the playground continued. A few were chasing each other across the yard, a handful in a plastic play house and going down a slide. The noises seemed as if they were getting louder and louder and louder and Castiel's breath hitched and- he blinked. The other children disappeared. The sound of the swingset continued creaking beside him.

 

 

There was blood on his fists. His chest heaved as he stared at his broken reflection on the floor. Castiel pulled his long black bangs out of his face, his eyeliner smudged in the shattered mirror and making him look deranged. Perhaps he was. The fear making his heart pound in his chest refused to cease. Something appeared in the corner of his eye and he held his breath. The door creaked behind him as his fingers wrapped around something cold and metallic in his dresser.

 

 

He was suffocating. The walls burned in flashes of reds and orange, being consumed by the pure light itself. He kicked up dirt from the ground as he ran, ran so hard, across the dying barn. His throat was sore, his voice broken, as he screamed at the top of lungs. He could hear his own name being called somewhere behind the flames. He coughed the smoke from his lungs, his legs giving in underneath him and he collapsed to the ground, surrounded by the burning beams and dry grass. He crawled back up to his feet, frantically searching for his sisters. His name was called again, weakly this time. There wasn't much time. Their names came from his tongue, but he couldn't hear them. There was only raging crackling all around him.

 

Through all of the smoke and flames, his could smell the fuel. He could practically see it pouring, slowly, from the damage the fire had caused on its container. From above him, another beam fell from the ceiling, revealing the sky at last. A set of arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back from the flames consuming it. He stood to his feet once again, fighting back against his brother behind him. "No! We're not leaving them!" Luke's face was obscured from the smoke, but he could still see the determination written upon his face. He only grabbed hold of Castiel tighter, dragging him backwards as Castiel shouted and resisted the best he could. "Let me go! Luke! LET GO!"

 

The fire grew on the outside walls, visible in the now clear air. Luke dropped him on the grass, but Castiel still persisted. He couldn't stand, and he could barely breathe, but he had to keep going. He had to at least find his family.  
Then came the explosion.  
It tore the barn apart, sending it up in flames with ash floating to the ground.

"HANNAH! ANAEL!"

 

 

He opened his eyes, back in the hospital bed, shaking. The ceiling was all he could look at, frozen in paralysis. He couldn't even blink. But there was a dull pain around his wrists, in his ankles. When he looked, he could see there was nothing wrong with them, but in the split second when he blinked, they were covered in deep, gut wrenching scars, the image flashing in and out.  
Then came the pain in his abdomen- all he could do was gasp at the sudden feeling rupturing throughout his body. His eyes fell upon it's source, his scream caught in his throat at the sight where two scorched, long fingered arms erupted from his midsection. His cry was lost in the white frequency piercing in his ears.

 

 

It felt like zero degrees in his hand, nearly weightless as his fingers wrapped around it. The monster was gone. Disappeared from his sight. All that remained was the figure at the door. Tears were rolling down his face, his hair disheveled in his face as he struggled for breath. He shook as he raised his hand in his brother's direction. The gun appeared in his blurred line of vision.

The gunshot rang through the heavy air, then nothing.

 

 

He coughed more blood onto the white tiles. Shaking, he could feel the sweat causing the hospital shirt to cling to his skin. He hadn't left the floor at all.

 

There was a warm hand on his shoulder, he realized as he came back to his senses. Dean was crouched down next to him, eyes wide with worry. "What are you doing out of- are you ok?" He heard him say. Castiel blinked a few times, trying to see his face clearly. He couldn't see his eyes; they faded in and out of his face, leaving him looking hollow. Dean frowned, moving closer, and Castiel ducked away from him. He crashed onto the floor, crawling backwards away from him.  
"Don't-" was all he could say. His throat was too tight, he could barely breathe.  
"Cas?" Dean moved another inch forward. His image flickered in Castiel's eyes, shifting his green irises to pitch black within fractions of a second. His face was decomposed, hollowed, corroded, then in a blink he- Castiel breathed deep. The walls seemed to be pulsating, red veins erupting from the flat surfaces.  
"DON'T!" Castiel threw himself backwards away from Dean, covering his face and hiding his head between his knees. "You're not real, you're not real, you're-"  
"Cas, I'm here, everything is fine." Even his voice rang through the air and haunted his brain.  
"You're not real, you- you can't hurt me..." His mumbling ran off into nonsense even to himself. "I'm sorry, I- you can't be- I'm-"  
"Cas?" Slowly, Castiel raised his head, watching him with wide eyes and a heavily beating heart. The image remained the same. "Why are you sorry?"

 

 

~~~

 

 

Cas watched him like a wounded animal, afraid as though he couldn't see him straight. He was shaking in his crouched position, finally looking directly at him instead of to the floor, his eyes wide and fearful. "Cas, it's ok, I'm here." He called out softly. Cas didn't respond. He backed away from him cautiously, the lack of trust apparent in his eyes along with his anger.  
Dean knew why he felt guilty then.  
There's no way he could have known, right?

 

 

~~~three hours earlier~~~

 

 

He'd paced down this same hallway until his legs were tired and soon to be sore. Yet he couldn't stop. Couldn't stop his worry for the man lying in what could be his deathbed, and Dean had no idea. He'd tried the nurse; she gave him no legitimate response. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he tried to give himself any other alternative than what was happening in that room.  
He's going to be fine.  
He's going to be fine.  
He's going to be-

  
The door to his room opened.

  
Dean rushed back down the hallway to where the doctor exited Castiel's room, stopping her in her tracks after she had jumped, startled at his sudden appearance. "How is he?" Dean didn't give her the time to speak before his question. She raised an eyebrow at his rude approach, but said nothing of it.  
"To be honest, we're still not entirely sure." She pulled a dark strand of hair behind her ear, looking away from his gaze. "From what we can see, he's been in and out of it for a while now. We were afraid that we'd lost him quite a bit." Dean's anger only spiked, and the doctor must have noticed, and she shrunk back.  
"And you didn't think to tell me?" Dean tried to suppress the rage rising in his voice, but to no avail.  
"Sir, please, he just needs to-"  
"No, you know what-?"

  
He was cut off unexpectedly, hearing "Smoke on the Water" beside him along with vibrations echoing on metal. Dean didn't finish his argument, simply giving the doctor a glare and heading to his ringing phone. He didn't take the time to check the number, aggressively pressing the button and holding the phone to his ear.  
"Who is this?" He asked, his voice a low growl. There was no response. Only the faint sound of breathing on the other end. "Listen to me, I don't have the fucking time for-"  
"Dean." Dean's shoulders went rigid at the voice. He couldn't recognize it.  
"Who the hell is this?" He asked.  
Another moment of silence answered him.  
"We've been waiting for you for a long time now."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then: Castiel finds himself in the hospital, unable to keep in consciousness without traumatic hallucinations haunting his mind.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Descriptive body horror

"We've been waiting for you for a long time now."  
"I'll say it again: who the hell is this?"

 

~~~

 

He kept backing away from him, eyes wide and afraid. There was something in his eyes, as though he weren't completely there. But the amount of fear remained the same. "Cas?" Dean tried once more to call out for him. Castiel's hands shook where they held his weight on the floor. His eyes kept darting behind Dean, and a chill ran down his spine with the terrifying urge to look behind him, afraid of what demons that could possibly be in Cas' head. It had occurred to him before that Cas may have gone too long without his medication, but he had simply hoped for the best. Hoping was nowhere near enough now.

 

Castiel stopped, his breathing halted as he suddenly went more pale, if even possible. He was grabbing the material of his shirt in a vice grip, doubling over in pain. Dean couldn't tell if it was phantom or not, unable to draw the lines anymore. He couldn't move, paralyzed, holding his breath as he watched Castiel helplessly. He was gagging, the sound almost demonic, like something was crawling up his throat. Thick clots of blood erupted from him, gathering puddles of the red liquid on the white tiles below him. He was shaking uncontrollably, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. From where he sat, Dean could see the visible tears streaking down his face. "Cas, you," he choked out, his voice shaking," you need to get back into bed. Now. You were- you were in a crash, you need to-"

 

Castiel suddenly went still. For a split second of panic, Dean thought he'd stopped breathing entirely, worried he would drop at any moment. Then, slowly, he raised his head. His eyes scanned over him, confusion in every inch he searched. Finally he met his eyes, those deep blues obscured by wet, shining tears. "What are you doing here?"

 

~~~

 

The line, once again, went silent.  
"Hello?" Dean asked, aggravated.  
"His associate is dead." Dean pulled the phone back, checking the number with no apparent reason he could gather.  
"How did you get this number?" He growled into the phone.  
"Your boss is dead." Dean stopped, his heart pounding and a rush went to his head. "Singer was a good man. A shame to see him go."  
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?!" Dean shouted a bit louder than he'd expected. The grimy voice continued on the other end.  
"Don't try to play your way out of this one, Dean. I know exactly who you are. As of right now, all you are is a distraction." Dean gritted his teeth, loud and sharp in his ears.  
"I don't know what you're talking about." He said lowly. The voice chuckled on the other end.  
"He's next."  
"Listen buddy, I don't know who you are-"  
"Might as well tell him before he leaves us." Dean's eyes averted to the room next to him, realization suddenly striking him like a bullet.  
"You leave Cas alone you fucking bastard! You hear me? You-" Dean stopped, disgust washing over him. "You crashed us." He said quietly, appalled. He still remembered the clear image of the large, nondescript semi truck barreling toward them on the dark street. The fear that had struck through Dean's chest when it happened, completely unexpected in their perspective. The way Castiel held his breath as he was unable to swerve the car off of the road in time. The indescribable panic that was sharp in his eyes. "You killed-" Oh god, Gabriel was there to watch over Sam and Jess. And now he's...  
"Keep on speaking, Dean. He have a long list of your associates."  
"You leave Sammy alone you motherfucking-"  
"Don't worry, your brother is not listed. He'll be nothing more than a bystander."  
"Bystander in what? When I fucking track you down and land fifteen fucking magazines in your skull?" Luckily, the doctor had left earlier in the conversation, he now noticed, but that didn't stop the eyes down the hallway from sticking to him like glue. He casted a glare in their direction.  
"Goodbye, Dean."  
"Come track me down you goddamn coward! Come fucking find me and finish this!" There was no response on the other end of the call. What was once their threats and growls was now replaced by still silence with a faint buzz through the speakers. The line went dead, and Dean took his phone from his ear, throwing it down with full force, shattering it on the hard floor below.

 

~~~

 

"What do you- Cas you're gonna pass out if you don't get back into bed right fucking now!" Dean exclaimed, beyond worried at this point. Any recognition left in Cas' eyes was now little to none when he looked at him. Castiel's once deep blues, enchanting enough to lure him in with a single glance, now seemed faded and dull. Dean wasn't sure whether he was still with him or not.

 

Castiel's eyes slowly rolled upwards, his head tipping backwards as he stared up at the ceiling. Dean couldn't even begin to imagine what was going on in his head, thoughts running through that he couldn't control. His breathing was still jagged, heaving in his chest unevenly, some breaths barely lasting a second and some dragged on that made either seem as though they had stopped. A smile tugged on Cas' lips, unsettling and unearthly, causing a chill to run down Dean's spine as he inched backwards. Two words words formed around his smile: "You're dead."

 

~~~

 

"You..." It wouldn't look at him. Just kept crawling around on the ceiling, dripping black onto the white tiles below. He didn't know why it was so humorous to him. It just was, in its own special way. It scurried to the wall, each one of its legs moving one after the other. Its faceless head glanced at him for a moment, watching him, before losing interest and continuing its path to the floor.

 

He didn't want to look at Dean. It wasn't Dean. Was it? Castiel couldn't recognize a face. Each time he spared a glance in his direction, his face just blurred, caving inwards in shades of red and a hollow black. He tilted his head. The image remained the same.

 

"Cas..." Even his voice was warped. He couldn't remember what it used to sound like. It sounded now as if it were coming through a tunnel, empty and distant, then all of a sudden it was too loud, too close to his face. It made him feel... something. He didn't know what it was. "Please, Cas... you...you're sick. You need to just... just get back into bed, please..." Confusion began clouding his brain once again.

"Luke, I'm fine."  
"Cas." Why wasn't he listening to him? He knew what the feeling was. It was anger, sharp and distasteful. But it faded within seconds, so he didn't bother to worry. "Come on, please." Luke sounded desperate, worried. What was wrong? He was fine, wasn't he?

 

It was crawling around on the floor now. Sometimes one of its heads would look back at him, but it didn't seem very interested beyond that. Castiel's fingers graced over a small black puddle on the floor, staining his carpeting. It was thick and sticky against his fingertips, and smelled almost swamp-like. Then he looked up, and it was right in front of him. Staring. Castiel tilted his head. "You're dead." Wait, hadn't he already said that? When had he...

 

It kept staring. Hollow, empty, burnt eyes staring deep into him. The sockets were corroded, oozing the thick black liquid from one of them. For a moment, Castiel remembered fear. Remembered that he's afraid of this...this- _himse_ \- thing. But why? It's done not- _I'm sorry_ \- hing wrong. He breathed in. Pain spiked through his stomach. -"you're sick-" he remembered. Perhaps he was. He couldn't keep his thoughts in line. It felt like something was crawling through his head, burrowing in his skull.

 

Something was setting his skin to crawl and itch, his nails scratching subconsciously. The thing in front of him made a sharp clicking sound, and the itch worsened under his arm. He didn't dare take his eyes off the hollow face in front of him, though. It burned, the itch settled deep into his skin, his muscle, his bone. It didn't stop. But he didn't feel his fingers move across the skin. There was a ringing in his ears and something being held back in his throat. Castiel wanted to shout, to scream, make some noise to overrule sound pounding through his skull. His fingertips were wet. The itch didn't stop. It was red, so red, skin gone to reveal torn muscle underneath, to reveal the insects crawling around in the tunnels in his flesh. There were nests, there was blood, eggs in his skin and they were hatching and there was blood and his skin just kept tearing open, he couldn't stop, they were crawling out of his skin and feeding and red, oh god he couldn't stop, the thing's empty face stretched open and rows and rows of sharp, oh god please he couldn't stop-

 

 

"You're dead."

 

~~~

 

There were tears in his eyes now. It was cowardly, he knew, but he...he didn't know what else to do. He needed to get someone, to find a doctor, he had to, but he couldn't. Cas... Cas was just sitting there, mumbling, crying, smiling, his eyes blank and Dean...Dean was terrified. Fucking paralyzed watching this, whatever the hell was happening. He was curling in on himself, choking on his own tears, because dear god, he's never been more afraid. Not when his mom died, beaten to death by gang bangers and set to flames in his own house. Not when his dad left him for months, only for him to be found dead somewhere in a ditch, glass bottles shattered across the street. Not...not ever. He didn't even know why.

 

He'd gotten himself into this. This is what he deserved.

 

~~~

 

The phone rang from across the dusty room. He ignored it, continuing to flip through his newspaper as though he hadn't heard it at all. Bobby grumbled under his breath and reached across his desk, picking up the one of the four that was ringing. The shrill sound ceased, and Dean continued his reading, not really absorbing anything at all.

 

Their conversation was hushed, whoever Bobby was speaking to. Dean tried to pick up on it, for shits and giggles, he told himself. Bobby stopped mid sentence, taking a moment to rummage through his drawers. He pulled out a pen and paper, asked the person to repeat something, then began to hurriedly scribble something down. Dean picked up on him mumbling: "I'll get my boy on it." Then he hung up the phone and stared at his notes.  
"Dean," he finally said, "I've got a job for you." Dean put the newspaper down, a smile forming on his face. Oh, how he missed this.  
"What's the sitch?" He asked. Bobby handed him the note he'd copied. Dean pocketed it instantly, rather interested in the background of his case than the address. He'd get to it later.

 

Bobby looked back at his own notes. It was all gibberish to Dean, the older man's handwriting almost like a doctor's and unreadable. He was focused, his eyes giving away that he was obviously deep in thought. "He's useful." Bobby said, almost inaudible.  
"What's that?" Dean questioned. Bobby shook his head.  
"This... Castiel Novak." Dean made a face, taken aback.  
"Wow, language," he joked. What? It wasn't his fault that it was a mouthful. "What about 'im?" Dean settled his hands on the desk next to Bobby. His boss looked away from his notes and stared blankly at the dirty bookcase across the room, still lost in thought.  
"Novak is useful. Listen to this: he's a hit man, he's escaped four prisons... he's incredibly dangerous and those four times are the only he's been caught."  
"And? What else? What makes him so special; we've taken down hit men before." Dean stated, disinterested.  
"It's almost too easy..." Bobby said, still focused on the papers. "He's an asset Dean, and plain in sight." Dean frowned , slowly reaching for the note in his pocket. His eyes widened when he read it.  
"Los Angeles... but that's where Sam is? For college." Bobby nodded. Dean's confusion lightened, his expression changing to show. He finally understood: that's where Sam was located. Dean could blend in, get the job done... "What are you asking me do, exactly?" Dean asked, confused once again.  
"I ain't asking you to do shit, boy. I'm telling you to." He turned in his chair to face him. His eyes were stone cold and determined when he continued. "You don't want it, I'll just find someone else." Dean looked back at the address in his hand. Sam.

 

Fuck the case, he had said. Dean had to keep that clear in his head as he stood in front of the doors of the nightclub. It was strange, going off the mission. He's too used to being given straight up orders, walking in, taking out his target, and leaving without a trace.

 

Time seemed to move more slowly once he pushed open the door. It was loud, and foggy and reaked of alcohol and tobacco. The multicolored lights flashes like strobes upon the stage towards the center. A woman in a pushup corset was sliding down a pole, another to her left stretching her arms and locking her fingers together behind the metal, showing off. Dean was beginning to get lost again. "Remember your training, Winchester," he said under his breath.

 

He scanned the room for an imaginary target, then catching the black framed eyes across the room. He stopped, looked away, and slipped his fingers into the inside of his jacket. There was no pocket, of course, but he had to play the game. The man across the room eyes him suspiciously for a moment, but once their eyes locked again, all he did was smirk. A leg wrapped around his pole, and he went back to work.

 

All Dean could see was leather, stretched across tan skin. His target wore a corset, something unique and unlike a women's bust corset, strapped flat across his chest from below his navel to his underneath his collar bone, secured with even more leather straps buckled across the front. A heavy belt hung from his hips, covering the majority of his tight shorts which ended a third of the way down his thighs. Heavy platform boots were laced up around his ankles, and there was even more, a black chained choker and identical straps around his wrists, restraining, almost metaphorical in a sense. Dean knew what he was up against. Tortured, restrained, and- by the way he was looking over him, almost scanning him- sociopathic. He was doing the same to Dean as Dean had been trained to do to others. He found it unsettling to not be alone.

 

But his target was figuring him out. First Dean had to convince himself, that way he could project it onto others. He's an agent, coming in for a drink after he'd dropped his work at home, an apartment, he told himself, in L.A. He just wanted a drink, but now he's looking at deep blue eyes illuminated by the stage lights and oh god he was losing track of his thoughts. His target just winked, and Dean had to hide his nervousness. He's never nervous on a case, what the hell was going on with him? Was it intimidation? Under a certain lighting, his target would rather seem so. But no, now his target just went back to work, grinding on the pole ever so slightly, casting him a look for a moment. Shit, he's trying to seduce him, like an incubus luring him in.  
He was only making it easier.  
Capture. Rehabilitate. Release. That was the plan.

 

It would have gone smoother if his target hadn't been caught not days after their meeting.

 

Dean slammed his fist against the desk, downing another whiskey shot out of spite when Bobby told him to lighten up the alcohol. "He was right there," Dean mumbled under his breath. His fist shook where it had fallen on the table. He had his target, he was in his hands- quite literally, in fact - and he let him get away. The image was still clear in his head, ironically sharper after his dosage of whiskey. In the back of his car, they'd settled in, god damn it, he had him.

 

He was still high in the afterglow, sweat dripping down his skin and onto the leather seats. Blue eyes hung over him, pupils blown and eyelids heavy. When Dean's vision began to fail him, he saw the smirk. Devious, manipulating, successful. "Sorry about that," he'd said quietly, eyes still locked on Dean's. The dark smudges around his eyes had sharpened the shadows of his face. Dean hadn't noticed that his hair was streaked with silver until now. "Can't take any chances." The memory cut short.

 

He hadn't remembered that. The bastard fucking drugged him? So that's how he'd escaped; he had suspicions of Dean all along.

 

He couldn't face Bobby for weeks after the incident. Humiliation kept him tied to his bed, the metaphorical rope keeping him within distance of his own motel room. He couldn't go back, not after failing the mission. It was only one, but to him, it was the only one that actually mattered.

 

So he lied in the lumpy, sunken mattress, staring up at the same stain on the ceiling for hours on end, only leaving the bed to eat or take a piss. Sometimes he'd drive around in the Impala, but that usually only lead to him zoning out and finding himself somewhere where he didn't know how to get back. He'd rather take the former than waste gas money, the little he had left.

 

He allowed the trend to continue on his own part. He hadn't received a single case for months, and eventually the days just began to bleed together. Every day was the same: drive, rest at a motel, drive, motel, drive... it never stopped. He always had to find something new to distract him. Hell, he'd gotten a part time job at one point, he just needed to scratch up some extra cash. He did the rest on his own, playing poker and cheating newbies out of their money, which he'd become an expert at over the years. This went on for days, weeks, months... it was only afterwards that he'd realized it had been years. Four years since the mission. Four years since his life had spiraled downwards. He could barely fathom it.

 

His phone started ringing one day on the beside table, which wasn't unusual, as he'd been receiving every other day. They were mostly from Sam, leaving constant voicemails asking where Dean was, how he was doing, that he was worried for him. Dean had never responded.

 

That day, as usual, he let the call go to voicemail. Sam could bitch at him later. He just didn't have the energy nor the motive to endure it now. So the call went to voicemail, and Dean lied back on the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. He didn't even know where he was, where he was sleeping tonight. It was too late at night to really pay attention to the call, he was so damn tired. Dean was half asleep as the voicemail read aloud. He already had his eyes closed, and he couldn't remember at what time he had drifted off.

 

In the morning, he lazily took the phone off the charger, eyes blurry with sleep as he tapped away at the phone, searching for the message. He didn't even read the number before he clicked it. He closed his eyes again and held the phone against his chest, hardly able to keep from dozing off. "Dean," a familiar voice said from the phone, "I've found him." Dean's eyes opened instantly, heart pounding in his chest as he sat upwards.

 

And here he was.

 

Castiel had his hands on him, pinning him down to the floor. His own blood stained his lips, seeping into the cracks, stark against his pale face, resembling the shadows under his eyes, red and tired from tears. He was barely breathing above him, and when he did it was the most ragged, rattling sound Dean had ever heard. He straddled his lap, vice grip on his shoulders, enraged and violent as his nails pierced through the cloth of his shirt. Castiel shook and pounded him onto the floor, shock pulsing in Dean's spine. A single punch drew blood across Dean's cheekbone, colliding his skull to the hard floor beneath him. "You're dead," he heard Castiel whisper breathlessly. Another punch, his blood stained across Castiel's knuckles. "You're dead." Dean could see his own blood being coughed onto the floor. "You're dead!" Castiel's voice was sharp with anger, and Dean felt another blow. The hands were back on his shoulders, and he was forced to look at him in the face. Castiel was shaking, tears streaking down his face. He violently shook him again, pinning Dean down with another collision to the back of his skull. Dean could barely breath, black spots were stretched across his vision. He couldn't feel the pain anymore as Castiel landed another punch to his jaw. "You're dead! I killed you! You're dead!" He screamed.

 

Dean could barely hear the door opening behind him, couldn't hear the doctors shouting and shrieking in horror. Everything just blurred. He heard crashing, more shouts of pain but never his own, the outlines of the contentious figures being thrown to the floor, two covering the one. He heard glass shattering, gunshots, one, two, and suddenly the two silhouettes on top ceased to struggle, collapsing. The one stilled on the floor, dark hair disheveled and blood staining his clothes, but still breathing.

 

The next few moments were almost non-existent. There was no sound to be heard, but images of darker figures appearing from the window, from the doorway, pinning him and Castiel down. Castiel didn't fight, apparently unconscious, but Dean struggled against the disguised man's weight. There was a cloth in the "doctor's" hand, and Dean fought to force his face away, but the doctor had held him down tight, clamping his face in his hands and smothering the cloth in his face.

 

 

In the last few seconds of consciousness, he searched for Cas.

  
He was nowhere to be seen.

  
He had failed the mission.


	13. Chapter 13

The streets were cold with the November chill. The crowds moved onwards in series of huddled formations, busily heading towards their separate destinations. A breeze flew from behind him and Castiel's shirt collar flipped upwards, sending the freezing air down his spine. He shivered not once, remaining stoic as ever as he traveled among the sea of people. Normal people, regular, narrow minded people. He was almost envious.

 

Remain sharp, he reminded himself, straightening his shoulders and back and quickly fixing the tie around his neck, unsuspecting to everyone around him. He brushed off the shoulder of his black pinstripe suit, then continued onwards with a blank face.

 

The briefcase just below his waist was heavy, even for him. He did not carry his office work, or any files within as one may suspect. But he kept that thought to himself, making himself believe that inside was not the plethora of artillery and blades, of bullet cases and pistols. He just had to make himself believe that, then the world would believe it too.

 

A short bus ride would lead him to his destination. To his target, he thought only to himself. A man- no, a monster, completely deserving of what is to come. Castiel could feel his expression darken, and quickly corrected himself. His thoughts only continued in his subconscious, as to not reveal any more emotion to the public surrounding him in the cramped vehicle. He straightened his tie once again and adjusted the case on his lap.

 

Turn one, turn two- he kept his intentions secret in his own mind as he ventured around the corner. The streets were busy as ever, and Castiel's eyes looked upwards, to the tops of the buildings. In a window on what could possibly be around the fifth floor stood a familiar figure in a stance he would recognize anywhere. He wanted to smile, but kept his expressions still. The sniper gave what was undeniably a nod. Castiel returned it to his brother above.

 

Turn three, turn four- Castiel shuddered when he'd arrived to his destination. The number was almost like a trigger, and finally he understood. This mission would be the turning point.

 

He'd entered the building, slowly, quietly. A dark corner awaited him, and Castiel hid in the locker, crouching onto the floor. The locker was spacious enough to be a closet, giving him just enough room to sit and open his case, the slits on the door letting four stripes of light to illuminate his work. He blew a stray lock of bleached silver hair from his eyes as he silently removed a pistol, loading it with his set of ammunition, and he closed his case.

 

From outside the locker, the sounds of footsteps echoed on the concrete floor. Castiel froze, stopped breathing as his hearing sharpened on the sound. Immediately out of instinct, he flattened himself to the door of the locker. It was a part of his training- never hide in the back, the enemy can't see directly below the window at a certain height. Don't hide in the first or last of a set of hiding places, they always check those. Luckily, Castiel had hidden himself somewhere along the middle of the row of lockers, choosing closer to the last than the first. His heart pounded in his ears, holding the gun close to his face, as he completely stilled. The metallic echo of the slamming lockers almost made him jump, but he remained as he was. The sound was almost angry, trying to intimidate him. Castiel didn't know whether or not his target knew he was even here, but he wasn't taking chances. He closed his eyes, partly out of fear, and tensed his body tightly.

 

Another bang, another, and another, and Castiel's pure terror made him ignore the fact that he hadn't taken a single breath in nearly a minute. Another slam of a locker, then it stopped. His target had given up. He released his breath, slowly and silently as he heard the footsteps become lighter until they had stopped reaching him entirely. He stayed where he was, waiting, forcing himself to remain where he was until he was sure his target had left the premise entirely. Then the door he was leaning his weight against had suddenly been taken from him, and he would have crashed to the floor had it not been for the grip on his collar, dragging him out of the locker. Castiel shouted, instantly pointing a gun at the masked face of his target, but the weapon was knocked forcefully out of his hand, and with a single motion his target bashed his head against the concrete floor, sending him into unconsciousness.

 

~~~

 

Castiel shuddered as he awoke. It took him a moment to recollect his thoughts, almost forgetting where he was. Almost. He reminded himself that it was only a dream- no, not a dream, a memory. One that had happened years ago.

His head was jerked back, a hand gripping his face and forcing him to meet the eyes of his captor. Castiel looked into them with disgust. The man only smiled. "Morning, Castiel," he said dryly. Castiel winced at the nasally sound of his voice.  
"Fuck you," he spat. The man only grinned wider, tilting his head dramatically.  
"Still alive and well, are we?" He asked slyly. Castiel frowned, and the man's expression darkened. "We'll fix that." Castiel's eyes widened, fear spiking through him. God no, no, not again. But he wouldn't express his pain. Not now, not ever. He's not going to be broken, not again. Even so, he fought against the restraints on his wrists and ankles. They were red and raw, skin worn from days of struggle. The man turned back to him, his hand closed around what Castiel knew now we're pills- his pills. He came closer to him with the same devious smirk, grabbing Castiel's face his his empty hand and forcing the other over his mouth. Castiel shook, trying to turn his head under the strong grip- if anything, he'd rather snap his own neck under the pressure. A dirty, grime covered finger pried into his mouth, and Castiel could taste the blood and dirt, sharp on his tongue. He gagged as another taste entered his mouth, harsh to the point where he began to gag, which allowed another finger in, reaching down his throat. Castiel gasped, coughing hard and breathing heavily in attempt not to vomit against the hand. He'd done it once before, and the punishment of forcing it back down was not one he'd like to experience again. He could feel the pills being shoved down, and the man threw Castiel's head backwards, giving him no other option but to swallow them down. Tears stung his eyes, building up and rolling down his cheeks. The man backed away from him, still smiling. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He said, his tone condescending. Castiel's breathing was ragged, rattling in his chest as he shook his head. "Good. I want to make sure you're awake for every second of this." The man tilted his head again, turning towards a tray he had set by the end of the chair. At this angle, Castiel couldn't see his actions, only saw his chest down to his feet lied flat on the bed, chained down in his restraints. Then the man turned back to him, a utensil in hand, and Castiel fought against them like he hadn't before.

 

~~~

 

"You let a murderer into our home?!"  
"Sam, listen-"  
"No!" Sam shouted, anger tense in his voice. "No, Dean, this is not okay!" Dean wanted to shrink in on himself- he never liked to see his brother this enraged - but he put his foot down and stood on the high ground.  
"If you would just fucking listen to me-!"  
"You put us in danger! You put Jess- what the hell were you thinking?!" Sam was grabbing his own hair in his fists out of frustration, turning away from him and instead staring at the blank kitchen wall.  
"Sam, please..." When Sam slowly turned to meet him again, his eyes were wet with tears, but ones of anger instead of sorrow.  
"What the hell were you thinking?" He repeated, calmer this time. "Dean, you can't drag me back into this, I can't- I just can't do it." His voice broke when he continued. "Was it Bobby?" He asked, "Dean, after Dad- I can't go back-"  
"Bobby's dead." Dean said quietly. Sam stopped, taken aback. There was a moment of where all they did was exchange a mindful stare. Sam broke the silence.  
"I'm sorry... I... I know how he was to you." Dean only nodded, clenching his jaw and trying to restrain his emotions. Bobby was like a second father to him, once John had gone off his rocker and lost control during a case. The image of his body lying in the streets... not one day has it not plagued Dean's mind.  
"I have to get him back, Sammy," Dean said, his voice breaking. "I have to- Cas, I- I need him. I need him, Sam." Finally, Dean didn't fight the tears that urged to break. He wiped his eyes and turned away from Sam's gaze, watching the buildings outside the window instead.  
"Do you love him?" Sam asked, barely a whisper. Dean swallowed the lump caught in his throat.  
"I don't know..." was all he could say. "I don't know."

 

Turning back, he could see Sam nodding. His brother turned to the kitchen counter, opening his laptop. "Castiel Novak, right?" Sam asked.  
"I- yeah, yeah that's it." Sam nodded again. Dean could see him typing away on the keyboard. "Why?"  
"He was taken," Sam answered, not looking up from the computer, "we're going to find him."  
He was still wearing his hospital clothes. The white t-shirt was now stained deep red in blood, his own blood, but all he could do was watch. Watch as the erratic spots of red sprayed from his mouth with every cough, his chest erupting with pain with every breath.

 

His captor stared across the room from his chair, a shadow of a smile on his face. Castiel spat once more, some of his blood staining the edges of his mouth. He gathered as much strength as he could, black dots crossing his vision as his captor blurred across the room. "Fuck... you." He growled, using all the energy he'd mustered into the harsh words. His captor only smiled more.

 

~~~

 

Dean ran through the mental checklist once more in the back of his head: guns and artillery were in the trunk, Sam was beside him in the passenger seat, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he had his precious Impala back. To top it all off, they'd raided Bobby's old storage room (sorry Bobby, Dean winced) and found, of all things, a god damned _grenade launcher,_ which was now set with the rest of their weapons in the trunk.

 

Beside him, Sam was scrolling through his phone, focused on something. "You've got anything?" Dean asked, taking a moment to glace at his brother before returning his eyes to the road.  
"Whoever this is," Sam started, "they obviously have a reason for taking Cas. Got any guesses?" Dean rolled his eyes. What was this, fucking trivia? Cas was in danger- but he supposed Sam had a point, so he played along.  
"I don't know, revenge? What are you trying to get at, Sam?" He said dryly. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sam nodding.  
"Exactly, Dean. It has to be revenge- what else could it be?" Dean focused his attention to the road; they had a lead on Cas earlier, an idea of where he could have been taken. If he were still alive, that is. Dean tried to push that thought away the best he could, but it always seemed to come back to attack him. What if they were too late? What if Cas is already long gone? They've been at this for weeks now, for fuck's sake. Who's to say the fucking psychopath hasn't already killed him? "So, think about it: who'd want revenge on Cas?" Sam asked, breaking Dean from his thoughts. He mentally thanked him for that.  
"Shit, Sam, I don't know. It's not like Cas is an open book or anything." If anything, he's the exact opposite. Dean still has too many questions about him despite becoming so close. "For Christ's sake, his family is a fucking gang. Who knows who's had their eye on him." Sam didn't respond, most likely at a loss himself. They had a moment of silence where Sam continued to scroll through the map on his phone, and Dean focused his attention on the road, trying to clear his mind of any more invading thoughts.

 

They'd left Vegas about three weeks ago, stopping at every location possible, searching for Castiel. All stops had been a bust. They had even tried the Bunker in Florence, but the place had been abandoned. Not to mention destroyed; any amount of organization within the building was wiped out, bookshelves toppled over and walls burnt. The place smelled rich of stale gasoline. Dean didn't know what to think; he'd just hoped that Cas' family escaped.

 

Sam suddenly stopped beside him, eyes leaving his phone and instead looking straight ahead. "Why did Bobby want Cas?" He asked out of the blue. Dean shot him a glance.  
"He said he was useful, that's all. Why?" Dean responded. Sam nodded.  
"Who called to have him taken out in the first place?" Dean considered it, thinking far back. He shook his head, nothing coming to him.  
"No idea, but I think I know what you're getting at."  
"Someone wanted Cas dead," Sam pondered, "but Bobby didn't listen...that's why he was..." he shook his head, "anyway, so this guy obviously wants revenge. Didn't you say Cas has never missed a shot in his life? He's always taken out everyone he ever targeted. Am I right?" Dean nodded, agreeing with him.  
Then it hit him.

  
_"...he's still alive. I should have finished the job while I had the chance...I was young, but I should have known better."_

  
Dean skidded the Impala to a to rough stop. Sam gripped the dashboard, turning to him with wide eyes. "Dean, what the hell?!"  
"Sam-" Dean said frantically, "one."  
"What? What are you talking ab-"  
"One. He's only missed one."  
"Are you saying-"  
"Cas has killed everyone he's ever been assigned to take out. All but one."

 

~~~

 

He'd learned to take the pills more obediently. This way, the punishment wouldn't be as harsh, as severe. He swallowed them down, watching the eyes of his captor the entire time. He made no comment as they fell down his throat. His captor smiled, grabbing the neckline of his hospital shirt and pulling his body a few inches off the back of the chair, still holding him down. "Good boy," he breathed. Castiel did all he could not to spit in his face. "How about we try something new today?" Castiel didn't respond, just stared harder into his captor's eyes. The man dropped Castiel back onto the chair, leaving him to settle back into the restraints.

 

His captor took something large and bulky from the tray beside him, not even bothering to take a glance at the rest of his instruments. He turned back to Castiel, and Castiel shook his head, despite not knowing what this new toy was. The man forced Castiel's head to the headrest of the chair, forcing a cloth in his mouth to muffle out his pleas. He strapped the object painfully around Castiel's temples, and it rested too heavy, too tight, like a metal halo holding him down. He removed the cloth, but said nothing. "Please..." Castiel begged, "please, stop, stop-" he fought harder against his restraints, digging into the flesh of his wrists and ankles, "what do you want- what do you want with me- what did I do?!" There were tears streaming down his face now as he shouted. His captor turned to him slowly.  
"Don't worry angel," he said darkly despite the smile on his face, "soon you won't remember at all."

 

No. No, god, no. Not this. Not like this.

 

He could feel the first sensation of the drilling, and he cried out in pain.  
Dean.  
He had to hang on.  
"Tell me, Castiel: who's your family?"  
Castiel's breathing hitched. There was blood on the side of his face.  
"Gabriel-" another press against his skull, and Castiel screamed before it even went in. "Please! PLEASE! STOP! DON'T- PLEASE!"  
"Tell me!" His captor screamed into his ear.  
"Balthazar-!" His entire body jolted, and the sharp, excruciating pain started again, this time on the opposite side of his head. "PLEASE!" He cried, "KILL ME! KILL ME PLEASE- KILL ME-"  
"Your family, Castiel!"  
"NO- no, you're going to kill them! Please, kill me! KILL ME! LEAVE THEM ALONE!" His next scream hurt his throat, his voice breaking and leaving him feeling raw. The drill broke through, and Castiel could barely breathe. "LUKE-"  
"Nice try, sweetheart, he doesn't show up." The man spat.  
"No, please- I'm telling the truth, I swear-"  
"LIAR!" Castiel could hear the next drill settling against his forehead. "Tell me the truth!"  
The truth-  
Lucif- Luke-  
"I'm sorry-" Castiel gasped.  
"Why? Tell me why, Castiel, tell me!" The man was grinning, his eyes sinister as they locked on Castiel's.  
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Castiel shouted.  
"I've been watching you," he purred, "for years, years, Cassie- tell me: where is he? What happened to your brother?" Castiel shook his head best he could under the drill. "You killed him, didn't you? But that's not all; you still see him, don't you? Every day- every day since you put that bullet in his skull. But tell me Castiel: where is he now? Hmm? WHERE IS HE NOW?!"  
"Please-!"  
"Because you get it now, don't you? You've been awake for so long now, it'd be a shame if you didn't! It's amazing what a few little pills can do, isn't it? It's fan-fucking-tastic, isn't it?!" Castiel screamed again, and the man straddled his lap, forcing him down on the chair. "Do you get it now?!"  
"I'm- I'm sorry!"  
"For what?! For what-?! YOU NEVER KILLED HIM! And you know why?!" Castiel's vision blurred. Not like this, god no, not like- "Because you're just CRAZY!" He landed a punch to Castiel's face. "He's not real, is he? No, you're just insane! Aren't you! You're fucking possessed, Castiel! Possessed by your own head! Your own head! Once you tell me the truth, there's nothing left for you! So just DO IT!" Castiel couldn't see the next blow coming, but he could feel it afterwards. He didn't even have the energy to blink anymore- he stared up at the ceiling, motionless, without a sound. His captor grabbed his face. "So tell me, Castiel: who is your family?"

His eyes were glazed over, and black dots were blocking his sight. "No?" His captor asked. "That's more like it. They're not coming for you, you know. You're nothing to them, you're expendable. Once you're gone, they'll just find someone else. Every single one of them."

 

Dean.

 

Castiel felt the final drill against his forehead, the whirring sound from the band kicking in. "Dean!" He cried out. His captor chuckled.  
The drill pierced his skin.  
"DEAN!"  
He could feel it tearing his flesh as it twisted.  
"DE- DEAN!"  
The sensation was piercing, blocking out all other feeling as it dug into his skull.  
"PLEASE- DEAN!"  
There was blood coming quickly down the front of his face.  
"DEAN!!"

 

There was a shock, and a bright, blinding light behind his eyes. He couldn't hear his own thoughts, his own pleas.  
He couldn't remember the pain.

 

~~~

 

He'd found him.

 

Sam had stayed back with Jess, Dean having told him that he'd go alone. He'd protested, yes, but Dean was certain that this was the only way.

 

And now he'd found Cas.

 

He parked the Impala at the bottom of the hill, the overgrown thickets blocking the path being to risky to drive through. It hurt like hell, walking uphill through the thorns cutting into his jeans, but he pushed through. He had a gun in hand, one in his waistband, another strapped around his thigh, and a fourth in his jacket. He still didn't feel prepared for what was to come.

 

Dean opened the ancient doors of the decaying church without a sound. It was dark inside, with only the dim lights of melted candles to illuminate the room. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he stepped inside. From across the shadowed room, Dean could hear a muffled crying. "Cas?" He called quietly. 

"Please-" it wasn't Cas' voice. 

Dean, curious, took out his phone from his pocket. He was sure there was a night vision setting somewhere on the camera. He turned it on and navigated himself towards the source of the voice. Looking up, he saw a man, his face covered in a burlap sack, bound to a large board. A stretcher. There were nails in his hands and feet, apparently broken by the way they were flat against the stretcher. Dean swallowed, his heart pounding. "Please," the man whimpered, "kill me- you have to kill me."  
"Hey, hey," Dean protested, "just lemme get you out of here-"  
"No!" The man croaked, "no, you have to kill me- there are others. If you kill me now, they'll let the others go. Please, you have to..."

Dean took a few steps back. Suddenly the gun in his hand felt heavy. Too heavy. He could do it. He could do this. Slowly, without thinking, he lifted the gun, aiming it at the stranger. Who was he? He had a life, before this. He probably had a family; Dean noticed the wedding ring. He probably had children. God damn it, he had a life.  
He lowered his gun, shaking. He couldn't do it. Behind him, he heard footsteps. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. The man pleaded as he turned away, rushing to the confessional across the room and locking himself inside, his heart pounding and unable to breathe. Someone was coming- they were halfway across the room by now. Dean watched through the small holes of the confessional, holding his breath. The man was still crying underneath the bag, and the other figure was standing in front of him, and before Dean could realize what he was doing, there was the sound of the stretcher being activated. The man started screaming in agonizing pain and Dean quickly turned away, listening unwilling to the sound of tearing before the screaming stopped and the stretcher was deactivated.

 

Cautiously, he left the confessional once the other man had left. He held his breath, staring at the doorway. He refused to look at the opposite wall. Above him began a static crackling. "Hello, Dean," said a sickly voice, "you finally made it!" Dean looked up to the ceiling to find the source of the voice; there were several cords dangling from the ceiling, and a speaker for at least every corner of the room. He was surprised that he hadn't noticed it before. "Tell me: how are you enjoying the stay so far? You like the decor?"  
"You sick son of a bitch!" Dean raised his gun, shooting one of the speakers in the corner. A laugh was emitted from the other several speakers still working.  
"Not gonna work, Dean-o." The voice said. Dean growled under his breath in frustration.

"Now, listen, Dean," the speakers sounded, "I'll be more than happy to give your angel back to you. He's quite the pain in the ass, the rebellious little bitch." Dean was fuming where he stood listening to him. "You just gotta go through a few...trials, first."  
"I'm not playing your fucking games, Alistair!" There was a moment where the speakers crackled in the silence.  
"So you've already figured it out? I guess you're not just a mindless scrap of flesh after all." Dean wasn't dealing with this shit right now. This, Alistair, was nothing more than a distraction. He was stalling him. Dean wouldn't be surprised if something was happening to Cas right at that moment. "You see, as I said, I'll give your pet back to you, after you see and experience everything he has."  
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean shouted. Another quiet laugh came from the speakers.  
"You've already completed step one. Turn around."

 

Oh...oh god.

 

Dean looked over his shoulder at the mess behind him. That's when he realized something was wrong- there was an off scent coming from the mangled corpse. Realization dawned over him, and he turned back to the speakers. "It was fake?" He asked angrily.  
"Exactly," Alistair responded, "but don't get too comfortable." With that, the speakers shut down, and Dean was left alone with the silence.

  
The next room was completely empty. It smelled foul like the rest of the church. Dean couldn't even recognize what part of the church this was, it was so torn apart and corroded.

 

Above him, the next set of speakers came to life.  
"Welcome to your second trial, Dean-o!" Dean didn't respond. How many of these fucking trials was he going to have to endure? If there even was an end?  
He just had to ride this out.  
"Azazel, bring em' out." Not a moment later, another man arrived- the same from before at the stretcher, Dean noticed- holding two people a man and a woman, one in each hand, by a dog collar strapped around their necks. Their eyes were filled with unbearable fear. "Go ahead and set em' down on the floor." Alistair ordered. Azazel dropped the two people carelessly, both falling to their knees without the strength to lift themselves back up on their feet. Dean took a step back, confused and admittedly afraid. "Now, Dean," Alistair began, "this is your second test. You've got two people in front of you. What do you think I want you to do with them? Be sure to use your imagination." Dean didn't even want to start. His mind automatically set at a blank. "Oh come on, now. It's no fun if you don't even try a guess." He shook his head, unable to look at the pair of people on the floor in front of him. "Fine. Azazel?" Alistair sighed. The man, Azazel, took hold of the collars once again, grabbing them and twisting them at an angle until the two started choking. They began gasping for air, the woman grasping at the collar in her hands and the man near blacking out.  
"What are you doing?!" Dean shouted, "Let go of them!"  
"No no, Dean, this is your test. Choose one. Just one." Dean took another step back, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two. They were pleading with their eyes, unable to breathe or speak. Without thinking, Dean closed his eyes and answered: "the girl! Please just stop!" He couldn't bear to open his eyes. An awful guilt settled deep within his chest; he could barely believe what was happening. What he'd done.

 

Then the woman started choking even worse. Dean's eyes widened as he opened them, seeing the woman's eyes beginning to roll back in her head as the grip on her collar tightened. "What the hell are you doing?! Let her go!" Dean exclaimed.  
"Dean, Dean, you made your choice," Alistair said over the speakers.  
"No! No, Let her go! I- I didn't mean it! Please!" For the first time, Dean looked to the man, who was now let go. He was sobbing and screaming into his hands, mourning over his loss. There was a wedding band on his finger.  
Oh god, what has he done?  
It was already too late. The woman gave in, and her lifeless body collapsed to the floor. The man screamed, the sound no longer muffled by his hands. Dean's knees gave in, and he fell to the ground. There were silent tears streaking his face. "I'm sorry," he breathed. The man looked to him, rage and loss heavy in his eyes.  
"You killed her," he sobbed, "YOU KILLED HER!" The man lunged at Dean, and Dean did his best to crawl backwards, to get away from him before he could attack- then there was the sound of a gunshot, and the man fell to his side. Dean's face was now covered in the man's blood, the bullet having cracked open his skull all the way through. It was at such an angle that it hadn't harmed Dean, but if he were being completely honest, he'd wished it had.

 

"Please...stop." Dean breathed. He wasn't even sure if Alistair was listening anymore. If anyone was.

 

He couldn't do this anymore.

  
What...

  
What had Cas done, Dean wondered.

  
What had he done?

 

"I'm sorry, I just...I can't..."

"What was that?" The speakers came back to life above him. Dean didn't even notice.  
"Is this what you did to him?" Dean asked quietly. Could Alistair even hear him? "To Cas?"  
"Fraid' so, buddy." Alistair seemed smug through his tone. Dean shook his head. His legs worked on their own, and he stood to his feet.

 

Enough of this.

 

He set his gun in his hands, unlocking the safety.

 

Enough of this.

 

"You've got just a few more tests to go, Dean. Just a few m-" Dean wasn't listening. He had found where all of the speakers were connected, and with one shot, he burst the cables with his bullet and set the sparks flying through the wires. He was already walking out of the room.

 

The church was massive, too much so, but he'd managed to kick in and down every door down the first hallway and he wasn't ready to stop just yet.

 

Cas.

  
He's finding Cas.

 

Even if it kills him, he will.

 

Another door in; it was another torn room, just as the last. Just as every other god damned room in this place. By the time he'd reached the end of the church, there was nothing left but the back door out. He'd kicked it in as well, and from there he could see an old decaying barn downhill. There were cables running underneath some leaves on the ground, hiding them. Dean shoved those aside with his door just to be sure, and true to his belief, they ran down to the barn.

 

It was darker than before, the sky no longer shaded with the evening reds but instead turning grey, a shade of unnatural green hinted just above the trees. It illuminated his pathway well enough as he trekked downwards, checking his gun another time just before he'd reached the barn doors. He could see through the cracks of the old wood, distorted and uneven over time. He watched as Alistair stood over Castiel, Cas down on his knees. There was something in Alistair's hands, and Dean had had enough. He took a step back just before he slammed his body against the large doors, breaking them inwards, and though he stumbled upon entry, he stormed in, fueled with rage, and beat his gun against the side of Alistair's head without a thought to distract him.

 

Castiel looked up at him, eyes wide. He kept his eyes on him as he stood, the deep blues locking on Dean's. Dean didn't notice Cas' hand slip forward, and in nearly a second he had one of Dean's guns in his hand. His jacket was empty of artillery. Castiel raised the gun, aiming straight at Dean's head. He cocked his head to the side with a smile, never taking his eyes off of him. Dean's heart stopped, staring in fear. "Cas? Please, Cas, don't..." Castiel's expression faltered, shifting into confusion. Dean could see Cas' finger twitching at the trigger, and he took a step back. "Cas?" He raised his hands up on either sides of his head.

 

Cas pulled the trigger and a gunshot sounded through the barn, echoing off the empty walls.

 

From behind him, Dean saw Alistair's body fall to the ground.

 

He turned back to Cas, relief overwhelming him.  
"Cas!" He sighed. Castiel looked back at him, and finally Dean could see how much of a mess he truly was. He was still wearing the clothes from the hospital, now soaked in blood. The black collar around his neck gave a pang of anger in Dean's chest. There were bruises on his face near his cheekbones, and bloody gauze wrapped carelessly around his hairline. But Dean didn't care about the mess; he closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around him and pressing kisses into his hair. He could feel the wave of emotions wash over him, it was enough to cause him to collapse, it was so much. He felt Cas' hand press against his chest, apparently relieved as well. "I'm taking you home," Dean whispered. He buried his face into Cas' dirty hair, kissing him again. "We're going home."

 

In his arms, Cas didn't move.

 

Dean began to worry, because though Cas was still breathing, something was wrong. Castiel took a step back from him, and when Dean looked at him, his eyes were blank.  
Then came the manic smile again, and he pushed Dean against the wall. In his hands, Dean couldn't move, and it sent pain into his shoulders where he was pinned. Letting go, he let Dean fall to the floor, where he then straddled his lap and held his hands above his head. Dean's heart began to pound in his ears loudly, too loud, and he was paralyzed under the unforgiving look in Cas' eyes.  
Castiel turned his head to the side once again, smiling down at him. Dean noticed the blood stained on his face, starting at the sides of his head. His eyes were cold and dead. Dean struggled against his hold, but Castiel held him tighter, and began to nearly dislocate his shoulder. "Cas! Cas please! It's me! Stop this! CAS!" Castiel didn't stop. He lowered himself onto Dean's body until his face was hidden in the crook of his neck. His breath was hot against Dean's ear. His body was cold.

 

  
"This is going to be so much fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme (PLEASE LISTEN) :
> 
> https://youtu.be/SgkElu4NQiA?list=PL8JTlrFDzIP2MjDWZee7kimv-RrLSDdx8
> 
> Hello! Here we are, finally at the end. Writing this story was quite the rollercoaster. I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I've added some extra notes just for you, the readers, giving some insight to the process of writing this and some fun facts that came along the way.
> 
> -Originally, Alistair wasn't even a present character. The main antagonist was supposed to be Castiel's visions of Lucifer and how his guilt constantly haunted him. With a quick re-read back to chapter two, I realised Alistair's potential within the story and added him in.
> 
> -A few alternative endings included: Dean and Castiel were arrested; They were caught and jumped off a building (bad, I know); instead of rehabilitating Cas, Dean had joined Cas' gang.
> 
> -in the scene where the semi crashed into them on the road, it was originally Cas' vision of Lucifer that caused him to swerve off the road.
> 
> -Dean was an actual agent in the first draft
> 
> -the only innocent characters were those at the police station. 
> 
> -Cas being held at a police station seemed a bit irresponsible, but having the place seem unsuspecting was actually key in hiding him.
> 
> -Did you catch my references? A lot of this story was inspired by the video games Outlast and Resident Evil (7).
> 
> -Castiel's gang member family wasn't included in the first few drafts. It was supposed to be just Dean and Castiel.

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to keep bookmarked and leave a comment!


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